


Rising Son

by Lumielles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Child In Danger, Childhood Trauma, Drowning, Dysfunctional Family, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Family Separation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Newborn Children, OC as a baby, Origin Story, Other, POV Child, generational story, oc as a child, slavery in the empire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-11-19 02:31:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/pseuds/Lumielles
Summary: This is the personal history of Master Idan Lumielle, Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order.  Born within the chains of slavery under the Empire's flag, there was little chance his life would ever be his own.  From slave to father, to Sith acolyte, to Jedi, his life would always belong to someone else.





	1. Part One - Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> In order to tell my Jedi Consular's story properly, I realized that I would have to start at the very beginning. Because half the things that happen to him wouldn't make sense if I didn't. That's what this is.

**Part One**

Chapter One

 

     Rain pattered against the duraplast tarp canopy in the center of the camp.  A shuttle that made a weekly drop off of supplies was taking off nearby, making the muddy water-logged ground shake below Ysia’s feet.  She had already found the ones designated for her, all inside a muslin bag with her slave identification number stamped across it.

     Below her number was the freshly stamped ID for her newborn son; just barely three weeks old and already he had a number assigned to him and a tracking chip embedded in his arm. 

     For the past three weeks, her newborn had become somewhat of a camp celebrity.  People were lining up to fuss over him, including some of the friendlier officers.  Most were likely looking for a break in their mundane schedules.  Her son was currently in the arms of a Cathar woman, with several others surrounding her and the baby.

     “He’s so small,” said the Cathar, “What did you say his name was?”

     “Idan,” Ysia answered, disinterested in engaging in further conversation.  She watched the group of women turn back to her son, all of them saying his name in a variety of high pitched squeaks. 

     Ysia returned her attention to the bag on the table in front of her.  She’d been in the middle of emptying it when she had been approached with requests to hold Idan.  Hoping to see the baby formula she’d been requesting for the last two weeks, she dumped the rest of the bag onto the table.

     Ration bars, a bag of dried rice, a small carton of blue milk.  Not to mention the various other items she’d already taken out of the bag.  None of them the formula she asked for.  There were, however, two jars of baby food that Idan wouldn’t be able to eat for months.

     Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Ysia heard the grunting noise Idan would make before he began to cry.  A sound she’d only just started being able to identify.  All that being told that motherhood would come naturally to her was nonsense.

     “I think someone wants their momma back,” said the Cathar softly, to Ysia and handing her back her son, “Thank you.”

     “Not a problem,” Ysia took Idan, resting his little head in the crook of her elbow, “Anytime.”

     She didn’t mean it and hated it the moment she said it.  She hated sharing her son with anyone, least alone strangers.  The camp wasn’t small, and Ysia had never been one to socialize outside of her daily duties on the work site.  Another monument for another aging Sith Lord worried about being forgotten to time.  Idan gave people a reason to approach her.  A reason to speak to her.  It was awful.

     Carefully she tucked Idan back into the fabric wrap that held him against her chest, his head resting safely against her breastbone.  His eyes had fluttered closed the moment he’d been tucked back against her, any signs of fussing disappeared. 

     Ysia rocked from one foot to the other, chewing on her lip as she thought about what to do.  The official option would be to submit yet another request for baby formula, in hopes that this time it’d be heard.  It’d been evident in the first week of his life that breast milk did not agree with her son’s sensitive stomach.  Nor did any kind of easily available milk substitute.

     The unofficial option and the one that easily put her in the most danger was to march into the office of the camp’s head overseer and make a compelling argument.  This could end in her either getting the formula Idan needed to thrive or with her being made an example of for her audacity to challenge authority.  With neither the official or unofficial being an ideal option, she’d have to go with the one that got her an answer the fastest.

     And that was, undoubtedly, the unofficial option.

     “Pray for us, little bug,” Ysia sighed, placing a hand against the back of Idan’s head.  The thin black hair on his head was softer than anything she’d ever touched, with little hints of curl at the end of each strand.  She tucked his head beneath the fabric draping over her shoulder to protect him from the rain and made her way to the office of the overseer, Commander Tiern.

     “We are about to enter the nexu’s den,” Ysia whispered as the building sat before them.  The rain had begun to soak her hair.  Another rumble of thunder, closer than before, startled Idan.  She could feel his tiny body jolt against her, all his limbs jerking towards himself.

     “You’ll get used to that eventually,” she chuckled, looking down to check on him.  Eyes were still closed, and she felt him at the sound of her voice.

     On-duty officers were all around them, noses tucked into datapads about reports on the construction.  None of them paid her any mind, for all they knew she was supposed to be here — sent by someone with a message for the Commander.  She wouldn’t be the one to correct them if they stopped her and asked.

     Commander Tiern’s office was kept characteristically dark, with red ambiance lighting up the walls of undecorated durasteel.  His office felt so cold, with not even a holo of his family gracing the top of his desk.  In the five years, he’d been overseeing the camp; it would always look like he’d just arrived yesterday and hadn’t unpacked his belongings.  There was barely any room for the chairs he’d managed to squeeze into the space between him and the door.  Anyone who sat in it would find their knees pressed against his desk, which was taking up most of the room.

     His graying curled hair was all she could see between his broad shoulders as she entered.  He was signing something, running a stylus across the datapad in his right hand. 

     Ysia stood silently in his doorway, suddenly regretting her decision, and every decision she’d ever made in her life so far.  The last time they’d spoken, it hadn’t ended on peaceful terms.  She’d never seen him so violent before.  Not with her, but the datapad he’d thrown at the wall would never work again.  He’d gotten another one since then.

     “I thought I told you the next time you come marching in here, I’d have you shot on sight,” he said, not bothering to lift his head.

     “And yet, I’m standing here— not shot,” Ysia said, her mouth going off before her brain could catch up.

     A tense silence followed.  The stylus in the Commander’s hand was slowly placed onto the desk, held passive-aggressively between his thumb and pointer finger.  Ysia’s breath caught in her throat.

     “Be careful how you speak to me, slave,” he tilted his head up, his dark eyes locking onto her with droid-like precision.

     Wrinkles sat deep around his dark brown eyes; four and a half decades of life hadn’t been kind to his pallid skin.  His angular nose was a little too long for his face, with a sharp lower jaw that was covered in a few day’s worth of unshaven scruff.

     Ysia looked away, focusing on Idan as she felt her heart begin to race.  He had his father’s coloring, but it was still too early to see who he took after more: her, or the man staring her down.

     “I’ve put in three requests for baby formula,” Ysia said, lifting her head, “And they’ve all gone ignored.  
     “And you want _me_ to get it for you?” the man chuckled condescendingly, folding his hands in front of him, “You’ve got quite the nerve, slave.  If you weren’t holding a baby, I’d have half a mind to utilize that shock collar of yours.”

     “Echren,” Ysia stepped forward into his office, the door sliding shut behind her as the Commander pressed a button on his desk.

     “Watch how you address me,” Echren warned, his voice rising, “I told you before that brat was born that you wouldn’t be getting special treatment.  Because you aren’t special, and neither is he.”

     “He’s your son.”

     “I refuse to acknowledge it.”

     “He can’t eat,” she said quickly, she knew she was wearing his patience thin, “He gets sick—And the formula I’ve requested is all he needs—”

     “Ysia,” Echren growled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned back in his chair.

     “He’ll die if this keeps up,” she finished despite his interruption.

     “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

     “It’s your problem because you couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to get home to your wife,” Ysia’s grip on the muslin bag in her hands tightened, her knuckles going white.

     This was about keeping Idan alive.  Any feelings she may have had for the man in front of her were muted by the instinct to keep her child alive, even if harm might come to her.  Idan’s survival—that was her purpose now.

     “Think of what everyone would say if they found out you were—” she began, knowing well that she was now walking a tightrope above a sarlacc pit. 

     “Are you threatening me?” Echren cut her off, standing abruptly from his chair.  The chair he’d been sitting in rocked back, nearly toppling over.  His hands were planted firmly on the glass that made up his desk; strong, large hands that’d never seen a day’s labor in their life.

     “I’m not threatening you,” Ysia said, a protective hand supporting her son’s back, “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to our arrangement.”

     “And yet, one of us seems to have forgotten one of the terms to that arrangement,” Echren’s eyes found the back of his son’s head.

     “What’s done is done.  I’m just trying to keep him alive,” Ysia glared, s

     “If it’s been three weeks of him being unable to eat, how is it that he’s still alive?”

     “I said he gets sick.”

     “He’s small.”

     “He’s _sick_ ,” she repeated.

     “Still, neither of my daughters were that small,” Echren shook his head.  He strode around his desk, the same arrogance about him.

     “He was early,” Ysia turned her body away from him.  All his attention being focused on Idan—It was starting to make her nervous. Echren wasn’t behaving like a father so much as he was a predator, circling its prey.  He followed, finding his place in front of her yet again, now only an arm’s length away.  Too close.

     “Have you had him checked?”

     “Yes, not that the camp’s droid was much help.  He’s fine; it’s just an allergy.”

     He looked disappointed, and it made Ysia’s stomach flip.  He didn’t get to be disappointed.

     “I’m not asking you to accept him; this isn’t about you.  And I don’t expect you to shower him with kindness or any special treatment.  But you can’t just sit at that desk and force me to watch my baby starve to death,” Ysia gestured to his desk; though now empty, he was usually found behind it.

     “You know I couldn’t bear to hurt you that way Ysia,” he said, his voice deceivingly gentle.  He lifted a hand, bringing it to stray bits of hair that had fallen from her ponytail.  Tucking them behind her ear as gently as he could, he sighed.

     “It’s the only reason I let this happen in the first place,” his hand fell back to his side as he looked down at Idan.

     Ysia’s frown deepened, she needed him to stop looking at her son.  She didn’t have a response; she knew anything she said would be seen as a challenge.

     “I’ll get you what you need,” Echren leaned back against his desk, picking up his datapad with exasperation, “What was it?”

     Echren let out another loud sigh and typed something into his datapad.  He kept Ysia in silence for several minutes.  There was little in the office for her to look at, so instead, she watched Idan sleep.  His heart-shaped mouth open as his cheek was squished against her skin.  Looking at him sleeping so soundly made her current location a little less formidable.

     “Plant-based baby formula—powdered or otherwise—I don’t know any specifics,” she cleared her throat.  The humidity of Dromund Kaas’ jungle was growing unusually unbearable.  And the wrap Idan was in wasn’t making the heat any easier.  She lowered her voice, barely above a whisper, “I’ve never done this motherhood thing before.”

     “It’s on its way,” Echren said, standing straight and tucking his datapad under his arm, “It should arrive in the morning.”

     “Thank you,” Ysia said in a breath as a weight lifted from her shoulders.

     “If you ever barge into my office again, Ysia,” he began as she turned to leave, “I promise, this time, I _will_ have you shot on sight.”

     She swallowed, knowing better than to consider his threat empty.  She’d seen people get shot in his presence for less.

     “On your way, slave,” Echren said, waving a limp hand at her.

    

     She didn’t regret her choice to leave silently, the door opening to her presence as she walked in front of it.  The rain had lightened, but a storm was growing overhead.

     Lightning flashed behind her, lighting up the evening clouds with an intense, almost unnatural, brightness.  Again, she tucked her son’s head beneath extra fabric from the wrap.  She rubbed his back in soothing circles, in an attempt to calm herself rather than her son.

 

     The walk to the slave barracks was short, but the mud made it more difficult than it should have been.  Each step sank, and the sound it made beneath her feet, while familiar, wasn’t pleasant.  Many of the other slaves were coming back from their shifts at the work site, while others were on their way to start theirs.  She had finished her shift in the early hours of the morning, Idan had slept through most of it tucked against her as he was now.

     Ysia shook her head. All that was over.  There was a new set of problems to fix.  Like how she was going to continue to work on dangerous wiring and fixing equipment with an infant against her?  What would happen when he began walking, how would she keep an eye on him once he grew too big to carry?  The camp didn’t have any form of child care, and children were so rare here that she didn’t have many other mothers to ask for advice.

     The slave barracks were clusters of collapsible durasteel shelters, claiming to be one-family dwellings when in reality it was just a room with two bunks.  Those without families were forced to share with another, as Ysia had done up until Idan’s birth.  Besides Idan himself, the upgrade to a home for just the two of them had been the greatest thing to happen to her in quite some time.

     Ahead of her, she saw her old bunkmate head out of the shelter they once shared.  Her shift wouldn’t start for another ten hours.  She should have been sleeping.

     “Ta’leah,” Ysia called out, quickening her pace to catch up to the Quarren woman.  She held the back of Idan’s head to keep his neck steady.

     “Ysia, I was just on my way to drop this off—” the young Quarren said, showing the covered bowl in her hands.

     “More food?” Ysia chuckled, “I’m starting to run out of room, Ta.”

     “I’ve just been so lonely since you moved out, they haven’t given me a replacement bunkmate yet,” she mumbled.

     The two continued to make their way to Ysia’s, only a few meters away in another cluster of shelters.

     “Most would consider that a blessing.  And you don’t need a reason to come over,” Ysia said, drawing back the tan fabric curtain that acted as the front door, “You’re always welcome here.”

     “I hope I’m not intruding.”

     “Not at all, come in.”

     Ta was sweet and just as lonely as she claimed to be.  She was young and unsure of herself and relied on Ysia for guidance.  Not that Ysia minded, she was old enough to be the girl’s mother.  And it was nice to have the practice.

     “No, I shouldn’t,” Ta shook her head, “I really should get some sleep before I have to go down to the site.”

     Ysia would have been lying if she said she wasn’t relieved to hear it.  Her day had been long and frustrating.  The last thing she wanted to do right now was to entertain a teenager.  Idan would need to eat soon anyway, not that it’d do him much good.

     “Well, if you’re sure,” Ysia smiled with a shrug.

     “I am, thank you though.  Good night, Ysia.”

     “Good night,” Ysia’s smile became genuine as she waved goodbye to her friend.

     “Oh, wait, the soup,” Ta said, extending her arms to hand the bowl to Ysia. 

     “Right,” Ysia said, dropping her bag of groceries past the threshold and taking the bowl, “Thank you.”

     Once inside, and alone, she put the bowl on the counter.  She peeled back the tin wrap and looked down into it.

     “What do you think is in there?” Ysia asked, pulling Idan out of the wrap.  He kicked his legs, dark brown eyes not yet adjusted to the harsh lighting.  She held him away from her, checking to make sure there wasn’t anything that needed changing.  Idan didn’t like this, being exposed to the air and light when he would rather be tucked back against his mother.  His face scrunched up, eyes squeezing shut as he let out a cry. 

     “Shh,” she soothed, “It’s all right Dany, you’re okay.”

     Idan gurgled, making sure his mother knew he was unhappy about being woken up.  He blinked at her sleepily, his head lolling back into her hand as she supported him.  His mouth began to open and close, his little pink tongue sticking out every so often.  A tell-tale sign he was hungry.

     “Don’t be impatient,” Ysia said as she brought his forehead to her lips, “Little bug.”


	2. Part One: Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years have passed, and Idan has grown, and has been nothing but a handful for his mother.

**_5 Years Later_ **

 

First words came sooner than expected, and first steps were quick to follow.  Despite his size and prematurity, Idan had reached all the milestones Ysia worried he would miss.  Although he was lacking in one of the more joyous parts of childhood, socializing with those his own age. 

     The number of children in Camp 16, in the outskirts of the jungle surrounding the massive Kaas City, had increased since Idan was born; making him the oldest of six children between the ages of five and three to be running around in the mud.  He could have naturally presumed the role as leader, being the oldest—actually any participation at all would have been good.

     Idan didn’t want to play with them.  He preferred to stay near his mother.  Ysia hadn’t minded in the beginning, she appreciated being her son’s favorite person.  The fact that he’d rather sit beside her rather than run around the work site, while the other children wreaked havoc, meant she didn’t have to worry. 

     He could sit for hours in silence, playing with the few toys she allowed him to keep in her toolbag, or scribbling drawings on paper with colored hard wax.  Ysia could get her work done by a reasonable hour and, if all her wiring tested well, she could often have Idan home before nightfall.

     Idan, now five, could hold a conversation with an adult easily, happy to discuss all kinds of issues.  From the change in the temperature at which their new conservator ran, or how the doll Ta’leah had made for him was having a falling out with the wooden figure he’d gotten for his birthday.

     “They’ve been married for— “Idan looked down at his hand as he walked beside her, counting to four— “Tenty years.”

     “Tenty? Or twenty?”

     “Twenty,” Idan corrected.

     “And they’re not on speaking terms anymore?”

     “No.”

     “Why?”

     “Because she doesn’t love him anymore,” Idan said, throwing his arms out at his side, “Weren’t you _listening_ to me?”

     “Don’t be fresh,” Ysia scolded half-heartedly.

     “Sorry, mommy.”

     Idan sniffled as he brought the sleeve of his shirt to his nose, wiping at it. It was already red from him rubbing at it, little flecks of irritated dried skin were peeling around his nostrils.  His eyes were nearly the same shade, irritated and itchy.  He’d been rubbing at them all day as well, Ysia could tell from the dried tear stains also on the boy’s sleeves.

     Allergies to the local flora; that was what the camp medical droid had said.  Medications were available but nothing in Ysia’s price range.  The holistic approaches had some effect, but they always wore off quickly.  This left the boy a stuffed up and sniffling mess most days.  It likely attributed to his lack of enthusiasm when she suggested he run around with the other children.  It’s hard to run and play if you can’t breathe.

     The sounds of the jungle were all Ysia could hear as they continued their short journey home.  The walking path between the main construction site and the camp itself was worn from constant use, the brush that she’d once stepped over had died and given way to treaded soggy ground.  Thick brush lined either side of the path, some with leaves bigger than her son.  The construction on the monument had been slow and continuously delayed by tragedy and accidents.  She wouldn’t be surprised if Idan grew into a man before it was completed. 

     It was easy to see, by the way Idan watched the ground as he walked, that Idan had retreated back into his imagination.  A little wobbly, one hand in his black hair, curls behind his ear twisted around his finger.  Sometimes he’d mumble to himself, but he was being quiet now.  Lost in a world of his own.

     Some days he’d share it with her, explaining things that have popped into his head with vivid detail.  The imaginary, and apparently turbulent, marriage of his doll and wood figure was a decent example of how in-depth he tended to go.  It worried Ysia how often he preferred to live in his head rather than the world around him, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

     A few of his most recent imaginings had been about the man his father could be, bringing Ysia more anxiety and fear than she had expected.  Since his birth, rumors about the possibility of Idan being the byproduct of secret trysts between Ysia and Overseer Tiern had run rampant.  Her attempts to keep the rumors away from Idan’s ears had so far been successful.  Right now, Idan had decided that his father liked cheese, wore yellow a lot, and has curly hair like him.  Ysia knew that two of those were true, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. 

     There was an undeniable resemblance between father and son, one that grew stronger with each passing year.  If they hadn’t already, people were going to begin noticing.  It was only a matter of time before she’d have to sit Idan down for a discussion she’d been dreading.  Months of his pestering had finally worn her down for a name, a fake name that started with an H.  She couldn’t remember it.

     If anyone ever needed to know, she’d direct them to Idan; he had tried writing it in scribbly aurebesh.  All his art supplies had been spread across the floor, colored waxes, chalks, paints Ta had made him, and loose paper.  He’d drawn what he thought his father to look like beneath it; blue hair, no fingers or pants.  When she saw it, the mental image of Echren with blue hair and no pants was permanently ingrained into her mind.  It made him seem a little less intimidating.

     “Bug, do you think you could draw something for me when we get home?” she asked, hoping to reengage him.

     No answer came, but it didn’t alarm her.  It was easy for him not to hear her the first time, she’d have to get his attention first.

     She looked down at her side, where he’d been just a few minutes before, but he was gone.  Her breathing stopped, air catching in her throat as it tightened.  Finger and arms went rigid as she was temporarily removed from her own body in her sudden rush of panic.

     “Idan?” Ysia said, turning around, hoping to spot him further back on the path.  There wasn’t a soul other than her, not even the guard patrol she knew to expect at any minute.  From where she stood, she could see where her son’s footprints in the thick mud ended and veered off into the jungle.

     Damn it.  This wasn’t the first time he’d done this.  He was always so quiet, it was next to impossible to hear him slip away.  She’d lost count of the number of times she’d told him it was dangerous.   Killed by a wild animal, killed by one of those jungle-dwelling cultists, fallen into a gully and broken his neck—A list of the possibilities rolled through her head like credits to a holovid.

     “Idan!” she called out again, pushing her way past a dense leafy plant covered in white flowers.  Her hand shook as she reached out and moved a branch away from her face, she could feel her heartbeat in all of her extremities, like it’d broken into pieces and spread through her body.

     “Where are you?”

      The buzz of nearby insects and the rumble distant thunder became muted by the sound of rushing water.  The river that ran near the camp was dangerous, it never failed to claim the lives of those desperate enough to cross it; crushed by the turbulent water or torn to pieces by the jagged rocks.  If the steep fall down the embankment didn’t kill you first.  It didn’t matter that Idan couldn’t swim, he’d be killed before he’d get the chance.

     The thick foliage finally gave way to a small clearing, where the embankment’s edge began three meters away.

     “Idan!” she shouted as she entered the clearing, graphic images of him washing up somewhere downstream flashing through her head.  It made her feel impossibly sick.

     “Mommy?” she heard him say to her left.

     She must have looked like an enraged swamp wampa when she locked eyes with him from across the clearing. He had lost what little color there was in his face.

     “Why didn’t you answer me?” Ysia demanded loudly, stomping up to him.  She grabbed him, lifting him quickly from where he was kneeling in the dirt.  She kept her hand wrapped around his arm as he protested with a yelp, “Idan, why didn’t you answer me?”

     “I didn’t hear you,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where she’d dragged him from.  He didn’t put in much effort as pulled against her grip.

     “What do you mean you didn’t hear me?  I was yelling your name—Idan look at me.”

     “I heard ringing,” he said, glancing at her quickly.

     “I don’t care what you heard, you never run off like that.  You know better.  Don’t you?” she leaned over him, still holding onto his arm.

     Idan’s gaze remained fixed to the base of the large old tree.  She felt heat rise from her stomach as her fear boiled into frustration.  She shook him, maybe a little too harshly, and he thwacked his forehead against hers.

     She let out a growl, “Idan look at me!”

     Brown eyes snapped to hers, alarming her with their sudden intensity.  She saw something dark flicker inside of them, then disappear.  A nasty temper boiled behind his naturally gentle demeanor, and the glare she’d just received was one of the last warning signs.  For him to have a tantrum away from home would be, for lack of a better term, catastrophic.

     “Do you understand?” she asked calmly, lowering her voice.

     “Yes,” he mumbled, averting his eyes again.  Back to looking at the tree and the dirt.  She had narrowly avoided disaster.

     “What are you obsessing over?” Ysia asked, brushing back humid-soaked curls from where it hung over his eyes.  She made a mental note to cut his hair soon.

     “The ringing,” he said faintly, pointing to the shallow hole he’d made beside the tree, “It’s coming from over there.”

     “Bug, I don’t hear anything.”

     “It’s so _loud_.”

     “Come on, let’s go home,” Ysia stood straight, “We have to get back on the path before the next patrol—”

     “No,” Idan tugged against her grip, “I need to find it.”

     “Find _what_?  You don’t even know what you’re looking for.”

     “The ringing!”  
     “There is no ringing, all I can hear is thunder,” Ysia gestured up to the sky that was partially hidden by the forest canopy.

     “No,” he whined, pulling against her again.  His lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout and little eyebrows knitted together in a scowl that could rival his father’s.

     Tantrums were relatively uncommon; the last one he threw had been three months ago.  As if all his quietness and self-isolation was his way of containing all his frustrations and keeping them to himself until everything became too much—and he would blow up.  Screaming at the top of lungs and crying streams of tears.  It could take hours to calm him, hours Ysia often didn’t have to spare.  Since he was a baby, she’d been relying heavily on Ta’leah.  Ta had become Idan’s personal consoler.  For the hours it’d take Ysia to soothe her son after a breakdown, it would take Ta only minutes.

     “Please, bug, I’m exhausted,” she said.  He didn’t stop looking at her with the face he was making, “Fine, but only for another minute.”

     The moment Ysia let go of Idan’s arm, he was back to digging through the dead foliage and dirt.  It would be twenty-six seconds before he’d happily exclaim that he’d found something.

     “Mommy, look!” he shouted, jumping to his feet.

     In his hand was a skinny rock covered caked in dirt, not much longer than one of his fingers.  It didn’t look like anything spectacular and if it was the source of the ringing Idan’s claimed to hear, Ysia was still deaf to it.

     “Very pretty,” she said unenthusiastically, “Let’s go home.”

     Idan wilted in front of her, pocketing the rock and lowering his head.  Any guilt she might have felt was overcome by her fatigue.  She took his hand and led him back to the walking path. 

     The rest of the walk home was spent in silence.  Idan would pull on her hand every now and then as he jumped from spot to spot.  Tonight was going to be difficult if he still had this much energy left.  To Ysia’s relief, there was a very familiar Quarren waiting outside for them.

     “Auntie Ta,” Idan smiled, ripping his hand from Ysia’s and running to her, “I missed you.”

     “Missed me?  You saw me four hours ago,” Ta said, the tendrils around her mouth fanned out in happiness before relaxing.  
     “I know,” Idan mumbled, casting a glance over his shoulder to Ysia as he hugged Ta’s legs.

     “Don’t look at me like that,” Ysia said walking into their home ahead of them, pushing back the fabric curtain for them to follow, “He took off into the jungle on the way home.”

     “He _didn’t_ ,” Ta stopped in the doorway.

     “He did, and I found him digging in the dirt.”

     “Idan, that’s dangerous, you could have gotten hurt.”

     “I didn’t, so it’s okay,” Idan shrugged.

     “It’s _not_ okay; just because some hungry animal didn’t pick you off this time, doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” Ysia shook her head as she walked to the conservator.

     “You need to be careful,” Ta said, following her.

     “They’ll eat you up and use your leg bones as toothpicks.”

     “Are you trying to scare him?” Ta snapped, half amused, “It’s just not safe—For _other_ reasons.”

     “What’s for dinner?” Idan asked, growing uncomfortable from all the reprimanding.

     “Don’t change the subject, you made a mistake,” Ta’s bright Quarren blue eyes squinted as she knelt in front of him, “You need to apologize to your mother.”

     “Sorry,” Idan said, shuffling his feet and looking at the floor.

     “Apology accepted, little bug.  Go to the refresher and wash up,” Ysia said as she walked behind him, “Wash your hands well, I don’t want to see any dirt on them.”

     Without a word, Idan took off, shutting the refresher door behind him.  Ysia heard the click of the lock and rolled her eyes.

     “No locking the door!” she shouted.  The door unlocked softly.

     “So, what was it this time?  Another little creature he followed off the path?” Ta asked, standing.

     “No, he heard ringing.  At least that’s what he said; _I_ didn’t hear anything.”

     “You should get his hearing checked.”

     “Maybe,” Ysia sighed, pulling leftovers from the previous night from their small conservator, “I really don’t want to deal with that outdated med droid more than I have to.”

     “They replaced M100,” Ta shook her head, tendrils curling at the ends, “It’s a newer model, little less grumpy.”

     “And by ‘newer model’, how many decades old is it?”

     “I think only one.”

     “I guess the Overseer decided to splurge for once, how kind of him.”

     Idan exited the refresher.

     “You didn’t wash your hands,” Ysia said without turning around.  She heard him groan and walk back in, dramatically sighing as he turned on the faucet.

     “Still,” Ysia continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “He found what he thought was the source of the ringing, some kind of little rock by a tree.”

     “A rock?”

     “That’s what it looked like.”

     “Do you want to see it?” Idan hopped out of the refresher, holding his body in a way that made it look like he was prepared to jettison into space with an invisible jetpack, “It’s in my pocket!”  
     “Keep your voice down,” Ysia warned, her back still turned as she plopped out the meatloaf onto a plate.

     “ _It’s in my pocket_ ,” Idan repeated in an enthusiastic whisper.

     Ta laughed, sitting down at the tiny circular table tucked against the wall opposite the bunk bed.

     “I’d love to see it,” she said.

     “I cleaned it—” he dug into his pocket as he walked up to Ta— “It’s purple.”

     In his outstretched hand was a bright purple crystal.  It was pristine, no damage to it other than the place where’d it broken off from a larger crystal growth.

     When Ta didn’t respond, Ysia looked over her shoulder.  The tendrils around Ta’s mouth were still as stone as she looked into Idan’s hand.

     “Isn’t it pretty?” Idan asked, rocking onto his toes.

     “It’s lovely, you did a good job cleaning it,” Ta nodded, breaking from her trance, “You should go put it somewhere safe before you lose it.”

     “I’m not going to lose it,” Idan’s face scrunched up with a frown, “I’m going to put it in my box on my shelf.”

     “Better go do that now,” Ta suggested, “Your dinner will be ready soon.”

     “I’m not hungry,” Idan said, glancing at Ysia.

     “You said that at lunch.  You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast—” Ysia began.

     “My stomach hurts.”

     “Maybe your stomach hurts because you haven’t eaten anything.”

     “I don’t want leftovers.”

     “Idan, I—“ Ysia started as two armed officers marched into the home--“Can I help you?”

     “Slave 302521293, the Overseer needs to speak with you about your recent misbehaviors,” barked the woman, Lieutenant Ristan.  A newer addition to the camp’s staff, but one Ysia knew she could trust.

     “What?” Ysia’s brow knotted as she turned away from the counter, “What misbehaviors?”

     “We have reports of you leaving the walking path, Ysia.  You know that’s not allowed,” Ristan said softly, “And it’s not the first time.”

     “Ta can you—” Ysia gestured to Idan, who stood between them.

     “Of course, go,” Ta nodded.

     “Wait,” Idan mumbled, turning to his mother as she went to the officers, “Mommy…”

     “No, she’ll be right back, it’s alright,” Ta said softly.  She reached out for his arm, gently holding it in her four fingers.

     Idan whined softly but didn’t speak.  He tugged weakly against Ta’s hand but didn’t try to fight her off.  For the first time in his short life, he let his mother out of his sight without having a breakdown.

     It was all Ysia could think about as she was lead to Overseer Tiern’s office.  She’d been prepared to hear her son’s shrieking.  _Mommy don’t leave me, mommy take me with you._ The nightmares he would suffer through were always about the same thing.  Either she disappeared while he was sleeping or she wouldn’t return after leaving him with Ta.

     There was a new security gate separating the slave and officer portions of the camp, with two men watching in a small tower.  It powered down, the blue shield dropping as Ysia was lead by Ristan and the other officer.  She’d helped build the gate, meaning she had a better handle on how it worked than the dutiful Imperials it protected.

     She has become so lost in her thoughts on the gate she didn’t even see the tall, black-haired woman standing in Echren’s office as she entered.  The woman wore the robes of a sith, extravagant draping at her hips in folds of thick black and gold brocade.  Dark terracotta eye shadow was packed heavily onto her eyelids, making the Sith-yellow and reds or her eyes pop against perfumed ivory skin.  Ysia could smell the woman long before she noticed her.  The scent was unbearably floral; it would have sent Idan into allergenic shock, had he been present.

     “I’m sorry—I’ll come back,” Ysia said softly, bowing her head to the Sith woman, then to Echren where he sat behind his desk.

     “No, Aramysia, stay,” Echren said, his deep voice boomed in the small office.  He only called her Aramysia when they weren’t alone.  Even after all these years he still acted like they had something to hide.

     “Yes, I was just leaving,” said the Sith.  Her words dripped with honey; sweetly luring those who heard it into a false sense of safety. 

     “Have a good evening, my Lord,” Ysia kept her eyes on the chair in front of her.  The perfume choked her the closer the woman came, forcing her to hold her breath or erupt into a fit of coughing.

     “I plan to,” the Sith said, stopping in the doorway, “Please tell your son hello for me, I hope he feels better.”

     Ysia lifted her head, trying to get a better look at the woman before she disappeared, but she was too late.  Still, she watched the woman leave.  There wasn’t a doubt in Ysia’s mind that she’d never met the woman before, but there was something familiar—

     “Was that your daughter?” Ysia asked, turning back to Echren as all the pieces clicked into place, quickly redirecting her eyes back to the floor.

     “The only one to survive her trials,” Echren said with pride, “That was my oldest, Galadae. She was just checking in on me at the behest of her mother.”

     It was too dark in the office for Ysia to notice any kind of family resemblance past the black hair.  Nervous, she ran a hand down the frizzy half-fallen out braid that sat against her shoulder.

     “You told her about Idan?”

     “No.  Just that you had a boy that’s been causing your work to falter.  That _is_ why you’re here after all,” Echren shook his head, leaning back into his chair, “This is your third warning about leaving the designated path, one more and you know what will happen.”

     There were three things that could happen.  She’d be killed to make an example of, she’d be publically punished to be made an example of, or she’d be sold to a place worse than this; once again to be made an example of.

     “Is Idan safe?” Ysia asked.  Her hands balled into fists at her side.  When she looked up, she did it slowly.  First with her eyes, keeping her head tilted down, then slowly raising her chin.

     “Safe from what?” Echren folded his hands across his lap.

     “From your daughter.”

     “From Gala? Stars, Ysia,” Echren chuckled, “She’s barely an apprentice.  To Darth Baras, actually, but I’m sure that has little meaning to you.  You have bigger problems to worry about.”

     Ysia forced a polite smile, though thankfully he didn’t continue.  Despite his claim, she still felt uneasy.  She could feel the sith-yellow eyes still on her somehow, even though Gala had left.  She’d seen plenty of Sith in her life; some would go out of their way to be cruel, others acted like she wasn’t there.  Never once had one wished her or Idan well.  There was something behind those putrid eyes, something Echren was oblivious to or consciously ignoring.

     “Like how, in addition to your excursions, you’ve been arriving late to more than half your shifts this month.     

     “I apologize, Overseer,” she said, “My son—he gets sick from allergies, and getting him up and moving these days is—”

     “I didn’t ask for your excuses.  What I want to know is, will you take the proper actions to fix it, or do I need to keep a closer eye on you?”

     A chill ran up her spine at the thought of him watching her more than he usually did.  Another one followed as she remembered there was a time in her life where his attention had flattered her.

     “I’ll make it my top priority, sir.  I promise.”

     “Let’s hope that you do, for the sake of your boy,” Echren leaned forward, propping his elbows onto his desk.  He ran a hair through his coiffed hair.  She’d noticed the growing circles under his eyes, and the weary frown that’d been plastered onto his face the past few days.  Though what he could be stressing over, she wasn’t sure.  It didn’t matter to her now.

     Ysia took a slow breath, recalling the picture Idan had drawn of what he thought his father would look like.  The blue hair, the fingerless hands, and the complete disregard of Imperial uniform codes—in terms of pants.  It helped her erase the passive threat he’d just made towards Idan. 

     “Why are you smiling?” Echren’s straight brow arched as he questioned her.

     “I’m—” she straightened her mouth out—“I wasn’t aware I was.”

     “You’re still as strange as ever,” Echren said softly, watching her in silence long enough to make both of them look away in discomfort, “You can go.”

     He waved his hand at her like he was brushing crumbs off a datapad.


	3. Part One - Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much to Ysia's dismay, her son might not be as normal as she thought he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages: Idan's still 5years old, Ta is 24, Ysia is 49, Echren is 51, Gala is 25

     A plate with a dozen small chunks of processed, premade, and reheated meatloaf had gone untouched from the second Ta had placed it on the table.  Idan’s eyes had been fixated on the front door and the yellow curtain that hung across it.  She’d tried pushing it closer to him, but she’d gone ignored.  He’d begun to swing his legs as he hunched in his chair.

     “You’re being unusually quiet,” Ta said, having given up trying to get him to eat.

     “I guess,” Idan mumbled, glancing down at his plate.  With a soft click of her lower jaw, Ta sat back in her own chair.  The trick was keeping his mind off his temporarily absent mother, but she was running out of ways to engage him.

     “Your mother said that rock you found was ringing.”

     “Yeah,” he slowly turned his body to her, finally giving her all his attention, “But mom couldn’t hear it.”

     “Why do you think she couldn’t hear it?”

     “I dunno,” he shrugged, “She said she couldn’t.  Maybe because it only ring-ed for me.”

     “Can I see it again?” Ta asked, reaching out with her three-fingered hand.

     Without any of the enthusiasm he’d shown before, Idan reached into his pocket.  His new prized possession.  He hadn’t put it away before like Ta had told him to and was worried he’d be scolded for it.  Once it was in her hand, he watched her carefully for any kind of reaction.

     “Is it ringing right now?” she asked.

     Idan shook his head.

     “Do you mind if I ask you something?” Ta said, leaning forward against the edge of the table, “Something that might seem a little silly?”

     “I like silly,” Idan said as he copied her by leaning his elbows on the table.

     “Has anything like this ever happened before?”

     “The ringing?” Idan’s eyebrows furrowed, “No.”

     Without any prompting, Idan looked back to the front doorway, just as the rain began to pour outside.

     “Uh-oh,” he said, hopping down from his chair.  Grabbing the leg of it, he dragged it a few feet to the counter and climbed onto it.  Little knees bent as he tried to gain his balance on the wobbly duraplast chair.

     “What are you doing?” Ta stood, putting the crystal on the table.

     “I need to make tea,” he said as he pulled the electric kettle toward him.  It screeched against the cheap countertop, it’s base having lost the little rubber protectors on the bottom.

     “There’s no water in it,” Ta chuckled as she stood.  She took the kettle from its stand and filled it.  The rain collector’s faucet sputtered as it tried to get going.

     “I want to do it,” Idan insisted.

     “I know, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, hold on,” Ta said, putting the kettle back and went to press down the button.

     “My mom lets me do it by myself.”

     “Does she really?  You’re not lying to me?”

     Idan shook his head fervently, “I promise.”

     “Alright,” Ta stood back from the counter, removing her finger from the button, “When did you start liking tea?”

     “This isn’t for me, it’s for mom.  She’s going to want it when she gets home.  She isn’t happy, and she likes tea when she doesn’t feel good.  So I make it for her.”

     “That’s very kind of you,” Ta said softly.

     “Why are you nervous?” he asked out of the blue.  He was still standing on the chair in front of her, but he’d found his balance.

     “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

     “I can feel it,” Idan looked up at her. 

     Ta clicked her mandible, “I’m not, I’m just worried about your mother.”

     “No need to worry about me, I’m fine,” Ysia said from the doorway as she entered. 

     Idan jumped from his chair, beelining for her as she removed her muddy shoes.

     “Slow down,” she chuckled, intercepting her son as he tried to attach himself to her leg.

     “I started your tea,” Idan beamed as Ysia lifted him up and settled him against her hip.

     “You did?”

     “He was persistent on doing it himself,” Ta nodded, settling back at the table.

     “He can do it himself, he likes doing it.”

     “I told you,” Idan sneered at Ta as his mother kissed his forehead.

     “Be nice,” Ysia warned.

     “He’s alright,” Ta said, “Can I speak with you?”

     “Of course.”

     “Alone?”

     “Oh,” Ysia frowned, lowering her son back to his feet, “Dany, can you go start the water heater for your bath?  Make sure it’s not too hot, okay?”

     “Don’t call me Dany.”

     “ _Idan_ , go to the refresher and start the heater please.”

     “I don’t want a bath.”

     “Now.”

     Ysia watched and waited as he stomped into the refresher and closed the door behind him.  She listened for the hum of the rainwater heater, knowing once it was one he’d be unable to hear them.

     “What is it, Ta?” Ysia sat at the table, across from the Quarren.

     “It’s about Idan,” she said.

     “I figured.  Did he not eat his dinner again?”

     “Ysia, that crystal he found—or how he knows when to make you tea—He’s done this before?”

     “For a while now,” Ysia nodded with a smile, “Sometimes it seems like knows I need it before I do.  Why?”

     “I had an older sister—”

     “What?” Ysia cut her off, “What does that have to do with Idan?”

     “Let me _finish_ —I had an older sister.  She was taken to Korriban when we were little because she could connect to the force.  It started with dreams I think—I was too young to remember.  But I’m worried that Idan—”

     “Idan?” Ysia cut her off again, much to Ta’s annoyance, “No, that’s not—Idan isn’t—He can’t use the force.  He’s just sensitive.  We spend every minute together, he’s gotten good at reading me.  He’s not—I can’t believe you’d even suggest that.”

     “Listen to me, that rock he found; it’s not a rock.  Rocks don’t ring.”

     Ysia slammed both her hands against her lap, “ _There wasn’t any ringing_ ; I told you that.”

     “But he heard it.  And it looks exactly like those crystals the Sith use in their weapons; those swords of light.”  
     “Lightsabers?”

     “Is that really what they’re called?” she seemed disappointed.

     “I didn’t name them—” Ysia grumbled, stopping herself as she realized how far off topic they’d gone, “Ta, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

     “How can you be so sure?” Ta asked genuinely, her tendrils squiggling in her discomfort, “I’d be constantly on guard if—”  
     “Momma!” Idan called impatiently from the bathroom, “It’s _done_!”

     “Keep an eye on him at least,” Ta said as Ysia stood.

     “I always do.”

 

* * *

 

     The quilt in her lap was something she’d been working on for years.  Sewn together pieces of scrap fabric she’d collected from old linens and some of Idan’s baby clothes.  Each stitch was by hand; but tonight her fingers ached, causing them to come out sloppy.

     She was distracted by the words Ta had put in her head.  The force was something she knew so little about.  She’d grown up knowing it was there, hearing about it.  She’d never seen it in use, but she’d seen what it did to the people who used it.  Yellow eyes that nearly glowed in their purity. 

     The dimmed overhead light over the nearby table was all she had to work by.  Idan had been put to bed, having gotten a long overdue haircut to get all the curls out of his eyes.  She could hear him tossing and turning in his bed behind her, unable to fall asleep.

     After tucking the needle safely into her spool of thread, Ysia stood up from her place on the floor.  Idan has his back turned to her, head tucked deep into his lumpy pillows.  The doll Ta had made him sat lonely beside him, with blue button eyes and pink yarn hair.

     With barely any space to spare, she curled up in the lower bunk bed beside him, draping an arm over his pillows so she could trace her fingers along his forehead.

     “Can’t sleep?” she asked softly.

     Idan’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he turned onto his back.

     “What’s the matter?”

     “I don’t like dreaming.  It’s been—” Idan scraped at his lower lip with his thumbnail, a nervous habit he’d been developing.  Ysia calmly guided his hand away.

     “Scary?” she suggested.

     “Yes.”

     “They’re only dreams, you know.  They aren’t something that could ever hurt you.”

     “Maybe, but I had a dream about that lady a few days ago, and then I saw her a lot today.”

     “What lady, bug?”

     “The Sith one, the one who was watching me all day.”

     “Someone was watching you?”

     “All day,” Idan nodded, “She’s pretty, but doesn’t look very nice with all the makeup around her eyes.  And she always stayed far away.”

     The knot that’d been forming in Ysia’s gut tightened.  It took far too much effort to stop herself from asking Idan for more details on this Sith lady.  The likelihood that her questions would cause him to be up all night was too high.  She’d already learned from experience that a sleep-deprived five-year-old bordered on catastrophe.

     “Are you sure you’re not making this up?” she asked with a gentle smile.

     Idan’s little eyebrows furrowed, his lower lip puckering out in a dramatic pout.

     “ _Yes_ ,” he said incredulously.

     “I’ll tell you what; I’ll lay here until you fall asleep and I’ll make sure to send any bad dreams away before they can reach you.”

     “You’ll have to lay here while I’m sleeping.”

     “Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

     “All night?”

     “All night.”

     Content with her answer, Idan sat up and snuggled up close to her.  Her hand went into his hair, supporting his head as it lay against her chest. 

     “Okay,” he said with a sigh.

     After a few deep breaths from both of them, Ysia felt her son’s nervous heartbeat settle.

     “You’re a good mommy,” Idan mumbled, she could hear him falling asleep as he spoke.

     Though she didn’t feel like it, Ysia smiled, “Thank you.”

     “Mm,” he hummed in sleepy contentment.

     “I love you so much, bug,” Ysia said, pressing her lips against the top of his head.  Black curls tickled her nose as she kept half her face buried in his hair.  She would never be able to describe how much she loved her son’s hair, or how grateful she was that he enjoyed having it touched so much.  The same color his father’s hair had been once.  The same color as his half-sister’s as well.

     Gala.  What reason could she possibly have for stalking a little boy?  Echren could try and assure her of Gala’s harmlessness all he wanted; he was being ignorant on purpose or he was far more oblivious than she’d ever realized.  The way Echren had boasted about her being apprenticed to Darth Baras, whoever that was, meant she was excelling at being a Sith.  One didn’t achieve that by being a pacifist or by having good intentions.  She was up to something; whether Echren agreed or not.

     Idan jolted a little when a loud crash of thunder sounded overhead, just like he did when he was a baby.  It made Ysia’s heart swell and she found herself feeling nostalgic.  Idan was such a tiny baby, born at thirty-four weeks.  She had so much to protect him from then, he was susceptible to everything.  A cold could have killed him.

     Protection was still her highest priority, but now it was from different things.  Things that were far more complicated than a cold.  Gala, of course, came to mind, but now Ta’s words from earlier were coming back to haunt her.

     The force.  Whatever it is.  Ysia had never needed to know much about it, other than the fact that she didn’t have it.  How could she know what signs to look for?  She could ask Idan about it until she went blue in the face, but she’d never been able to discern whether it’s the force or his over-active imagination.  All she did know was that her son wouldn’t last five minutes on Korriban.

     Ta lost her older sister, but no one in Ysia’s family had ever been taken away because of the force.  Neither of her parents had it, at least that she could remember.  Both of them had been dead for decades, killed the same day Ysia had been enslaved by the Hutt her father owed money to.  Their decent apartment on Nar Shaddaa.  So much bigger than the one room manufactured shelter she’d been raising Idan in. 

     Her baby—he couldn’t be sensitive to the force.  There had to be another explanation.  He was just highly sensitive like she’d said.  Incredibly empathetic for a child his age; sometimes bordering on…

     Psychic.

     If only they were in the Republic.  Then he could be a Jedi, maybe do some good in the galaxy.  He’d make a remarkable Jedi if the stories she heard about them were true.  If he was force sensitive.  Which she refused to believe.  What ifs didn’t matter anyway.  They weren’t in the Republic.  They were in the beating heart of the Empire.  And the Sith would chew Idan up so finely, they wouldn’t have any bones left to spit out.

     The thought of him as a Jedi crosses her mind again.  The green glow of a lightsaber lighting up his face as he grinned from ear to ear.  It was a nice thing to picture.  He’d be able to help people, something he tended to enjoy doing.  Though she realized with a frown, he could be too much of a bleeding heart.  He’d probably end up exhausting himself by trying to save everyone he met.

     How she and Echren made such a sweet, compassionate little boy, she’d never understand.  Neither of them were anything like him.  She certainly was far worse before he was born.  Selfish and reckless.  Sometimes she still could be.  And then there was Echren.  He was becoming more confusing by the day.  Never had she seen someone grow softer and yet colder at the same time.  But he had.  Right in front of her eyes.  They’d made quite the pair once, both using the other for personal gain and pleasure.

     A soft snore broke her racing thoughts.  Idan has finally fallen asleep.  Ysia carefully scooted herself down into the bed, until her head was on the pillow and Idan was nestled safely in the crook of her arm.  More thunder rumbled overhead, but Idan didn’t move a muscle.  He knew he was safer than he’d ever been.

 

* * *

 

 

     Noon was still several hours away, but Ysia already felt like she’d worked a full shift and then some.  She’d been up all night worrying about Idan.  Her fingers were clumsy from lack of sleep, making the panel she was working on take much longer than she’d estimated.  Everything in her body ached with fatigue.  At least they were out of the rain.

     Construction had begun inside the monument, and it was up to her to wire all the doors on the east wing.  While it was a little stuffy with the temporary lack of a ventilation system, it still had to be installed, at least the ground was dry so she could sit by the panel rather than crouch.  At least she wouldn’t have to worry about back pain tonight.  Allowing her to worry about everything else instead.

     Idan was on an old folded towel, sitting cross-legged as he situated his doll.  The wooden officer had been left at home, as it and the doll still weren’t on speaking terms.  She took a moment to look away from her work to watch him, right on time to catch him scratching at his arm.

     “Don’t scratch, you’ll cover yourself in welts again,” Ysia said.  Idan looked up, realizing he’d been caught.  She could see that his right arm was already covered in long, bright red welts, where’d his sensitive skin had become inflamed.  It had to have been some kind of food allergy, or another reaction to the pollen in the air.

     “Okay,” Idan mumbled softly, covering his dolls eyes with her hands as he looked back down.

     “It seemed like you slept better last night.  Did I manage to keep all the bad dreams away?” she asked, going back to her work on the panel.

     “Yeah, I didn’t see that Lady once.”

     “Good.”

     “Did you have any bad dreams?”

     “You know what, now that you mention,” Ysia leaned back from the panel, “I didn’t.  You must have kept them away.”

     Idan grinned, “We helped each other!”

     “We did,” Ysia chuckled as she returned to her work.  An officer would be by any minute now to check on her and her progress.  And she knew she was already behind.

    

     Thankfully lunch came and went, both Ysia and Idan had eaten their designated rations, though Idan had put up quite the fight.  He didn’t want to eat anything at all, let alone stale old Imperial rations.

     “They’re meant for the army people,” he grimaced as he took his second bite.

     “Soldiers.”

     “Sold-ers,” Idan nodded, proud of his new knowledge.

     “Do you want to try mine? It’s fruit flavored.”

     “What flavor is mine?”

     “Peanut butter.”

     “Yuck,” Idan grumbled, tossing his ration bar across the corridor Ysia had been working in.  One could still feel the damp humidity from the outside, hear the rain and thunder.  The moments they finally got the ventilation system installed would probably be one of the greatest moments this year.  And the year was almost over.

     “You shouldn’t throw your food,” said a female voice, hidden in the shadows of the unlighted part of the hallway.  A chill forced its way up Ysia’s spine as she swung her head to look at the new presence.  She knew that voice, but she couldn’t picture the person it belonged to.  Beside her, Idan jumped to his feet with a look of fear plastered across his face.  His big brown eyes were wide as he brushed a few curls out of his face with clumsy childish hands.

     “It’s a precious resource,” the woman bent down to pick up the ration bar, stepping forward into the light.

     “My Lord,” Ysia leapt to her feet like Idan had, her old knees upset and protesting to the sudden change.

     It was difficult to keep a neutral look on her face.  Ysia wanted nothing more than to scowl at the woman, let her know that she wasn’t welcome to just creep up on them like that.

     “Aramysia, isn’t it?” Galadae said as her face was lit up by the dim, half-finished overhead lighting, “My father’s _favorite_.”

     Another chill.  Ysia took a step backward, shielding Idan with her body.  She felt him grab onto the green overskirt she wore, grasping it tightly in his little hands.  The way she spoke made it clear that she knew something.  Echren’s assurances were empty.  Just as she feared.

     “And this must be your son?” Gala smiled harmlessly, “It seems he’s feeling better.”

     Idan pulled on his mother’s clothes with a whimper.

     “ _That’s her_ ,” he whispered when Ysia looked down at him.

     “I know, bug, it’s okay,” Ysia said softly, reaching behind her for his hand.  He took it quickly, letting go of her clothes, “Can I help you with something, my Lord?”

     “Just taking a walk,” Gala shrugged, taking a few more steps towards them, “Inspecting the decent amount of progress the slaves are making on my grandfather’s monument.”

     “I wasn’t aware Darth Haress was a member of your family, my Lord.”

     “Mother’s side; my father’s bloodline is full of worthless nobodies who’ve never achieved anything,” Gala said venomously, locking her eyes onto Idan as he peaked out from behind Ysia, “I remind him of that whenever I get the chance.”

     “That’s very—” Ysia took a breath, “I’m sure he stays humble because of it.”

     “That man is anything but humble,” Gala scoffed, “But you’d know that better than most.”

     Ysia would have thought her throat had swelled shut if it wasn’t for the fact that she could still swallow.  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and could move.  Was she being threatened?  Was this sith going to cut her down where she stood right that very moment?  Was Idan in danger?  All she had was questions, not a damned answer to be found.

     “I have to say,” Gala said as she sauntered past them and further into the monument, “That boy is the spitting image of his father.”

     As Ysia watched the back of the woman as she retreated farther down the hall, she wanted nothing more than to ran and tackle her, strangle the life out of her.  Gala hadn’t made any direct threats yet, but the way she spoke, so smarmy and uppity, it told Ysia she was up to something.

     “Ow,” Idan said, pulling at his mother’s hand, “Too tight.”

     Ysia waited until she couldn’t see Gala any longer before letting go of his hand.

     “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ysia said, “Gather your things.”

     “Why?”

     “Because we’re going home.”

     “But the day’s not over.”

     “I have an idea, why don’t you pretend you’re sick like you were last week.  They’ll let us go home early.”

     “I don’t want to lie,” Idan mumbled, “You said lying is bad.”

     “I did say lying is bad,” Ysia nodded, “But maybe if we get home early enough, we can see Auntie Ta before her shift.”

     “Momma,”

     “yes?”

     “My stomach _actually_ hurts.  For real.”

     “It does?” the wave of relief she felt was over her was astounding.  She lifted Idan up to her hip, and he buried his face into her shoulder, “Then we should get you home.  You know why it hurts though, don’t you?”

     Idan shook his head.

     “Because you skipped breakfast and barely ate any lunch.  You’re hungry, I’ll bet.”

     Idan, who had grabbed his doll before his mother picked him up, cuddled the doll against him.  “Okay.”

     No one on the site paid them any attention as she left her work post and trudged through the mud and rain towards the walking path back to camp.  All the other slaves didn’t care, and the officers were too busy.  Ysia was keeping an eye out for any other wandering sith Lords, but she didn’t notice the man approaching them.  Not until she was only a few feet away from the entrance to the path.

     “Ysia,” Echren hissed, “Where are you going?”

     “Overseer,” she gasped as she spun around, “You scared me.”

     “Where are you going?” he asked again, more sternly, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe your shift is over.”

     “It’s not,” Ysia said, keeping her voice cordial, “Idan’s sick again.”

     “Is he?” Echren looked at the boy in her arms briefly, “He looks fine.”

     “My stomach hurts,” Idan said crankily, “Cause I’m hungry.”

     “You’re just hungry?” Echren looked back to Ysia as his eyebrows rose onto his forehead, “Well I can fix that.”

     “Please, I don’t—” Ysia began.

     Echren pulled a chocolate bar out of his uniform jacket pocket, “Why don’t you try this?”

     “Chocolate isn’t a meal,” Idan said, repeating something Ysia had told him before.

     “That’s true,” Echren chuckled warmly, which was strange for Ysia to hear, “But maybe your mother will make an exception today.”

     Ysia huffed, putting Idan back down on his feet as she grabbed the chocolate from Echren and handing it to her son.

     “Don’t eat it too fast,” she said to him before looking back to Echren.

     “Gala knows,” she said softly, “You said I didn’t have anything to worry about—”

     “Oh, not this again,” Echren growled, “And not here, Ysia, come one.”

     “I want to request a transfer.”

     “A _what_?”

     “A transfer, to another camp—or off planet.  The farther Idan is from this place the better.”

     “The only place I can send you to without selling you is the slave pens on Korriban,” Echren said, seeming a little hurt.

     Korriban.  Of course.  The one place she was currently trying to keep Idan away from.  Still, he might have a better chance of staying hidden if he didn’t have Galadae skulking around the camp, watching him.  If Idan was force sensitive, which was something she was starting to believe.  She had to decide quickly, weigh the dangers in the few seconds she had to respond.  What was the biggest threat to Idan’s safety.

     “Then do it,” she said, straightening her shoulders.

     “Don’t be ridiculous,” Echren scowled, “That’s no place for a child.”

     “Neither is here, but I make it work.”

     “All of this because of Gala?”

     “I don’t trust her.”

     “She’s harmless.”

     “She’s a Sith.”

     “She’s my daughter.”

     “And he’s my son,” she whispered as loudly as she could.  Her head felt like it was going to burst.  Echren had always been dense and stubborn, but that was almost too much.

     He was looking at Idan now, watching the oblivious five-year-old munch on the chocolate bar.  Idan was looking across the camp, where a crane was being used to lift something.  He wasn’t paying any attention to his parents’ conversation.

     Ysia leaned down to pick Idan up again, hiking him up on her hip as he settled there happily.  He still watched the crane, uninterested in anything else.  Neither of them noticed him drop his doll.  But Echren did.

     “A little strange for a boy his age to play with dolls,” he mumbled, brushing dirt off the woven yarn leg.

     “What would you like him to play with, Commander Tiern?” Ysia asked angrily, “We aren’t able to afford fancy toys; though I’m sure your daughters had plenty.”

     “You know what,” Echren smiled sarcastically, “They did.  In fact, they had an entire room dedicated to them.”

     “That’s a lot,” Idan said.  Apparently, he had been listening.

     “It is,” Echren agreed, “Here you go, Dany.”

     “He doesn’t like going by Dany,” Ysia snapped, grabbing the doll before Idan could.

     “My apologies, Idan,” Echren said, saying Idan’s name with a softness Ysia had been sure she’d never hear again.  A softness he once saved for her, “You should get back to your station, Aramysia.  I don’t want to add another strike to your name.”

     “Yes, Overseer, thank you for your patience,” Ysia dragged his title, keeping her face as stoic as she could as she walked past him and back to her station.  She heard him sigh behind her.

     A group of nearby slaves had been watching, and as she caught them staring, they immediately went back to their work.

     “What’s wrong, momma?” Idan asks, with his mouth full of chocolate.

     “People need to start minding their own business, that’s all,” she said with a sigh of her own.


	4. Part One Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years have passed, and Echren has a heartbreaking proposition for Ysia.

Just like any other day, Ysia and Idan had arrived to the work site at dawn, filling her morning and afternoon duties before the alarm set for noon went off on the cracked chrono she wore around her wrist.  Soon the officer on duty would be by to check on her progress, scribble a few notes down into his datapad, and then be on his way.

     She was particularly excited about the lunch she’d packed for her and Idan.  She’d lucked out by getting lemon juice in their weekly supply pickup and had managed to make lemonade while keeping it a secret.  One of his favorite drinks was lemonade, and she so rarely received lemon juice.  The anticipation of seeing his little face light up as she handed him his cup was driving her up the wall. 

     “Are you okay?” Idan asked, looking up from the scrap panel she’d given him to practice wiring on.  He’d learned a lot by watching her, but applying that knowledge took skill he’d yet to figure out.

     “I’m just excited,” she said, wiping her hands on her pants.  There was already a giant grease stain on them, no need to be careful.

     Sparks fell from the construction rafter overhead.  The ceilings inside the monument were cathedral-like, causing much of the work being done around them to echo.  Banging into Ysia’s skull if she focused on it for too long.

     “Careful up there! I have live wire down here!” Ysia shouted upward, hearing an alien growl as the sparks stopped.

     “Mom.”

     “Hold on, bug,” Ysia said, keeping her eyes on the rafter above.

     “Mom, the Overseer is coming.”

     “What?” she said, a bit more of a gasp than she’d intended.  Sure enough, walking right toward them, was Echren.  Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing his stupid uniform and hat.  It made his head look like a boulder.  Especially with his new, closer cropped haircut.

     She stood, ready to intercept him if he tried to speak to Idan.  But as he slowly stopped in front of them, he kept his attention on only her.  Holding her in a gaze that made her confused.  She couldn’t decipher it, it could only be described as something on the spectrum between nostalgic warmth and cold discontent.

     As she turned her back to him, she crouched in front of Idan, smiling.

     “You just keep doing this, I’ll be right back, okay?”

     “Yeah,” Idan mumbled, trying to look at Echren over her shoulder.

     “Thank you, bug,” she grabbed his face, pulling to her as she kissed the spot between his eyebrows. 

     “Aramysia, may I speak with you for a moment?” Echren cleared his throat.

     “Yes, Overseer,” Ysia stood, “How can I help you?”

     “Privately, if you don’t mind,” Echren said, tilting his head to a more secluded part of the tunnel, far enough away from Idan that he wouldn’t be able to hear.

     “He’s busy reading, he’s not listening to us.”

     “Now, please.”

     Ysia follows him over there with a quick roll of her eyes as he turns his back to her.  At least he said please.

     “I told Remmal about you and Idan.”

     “Remmal? Am I supposed to know who that is?”

     “My wife.”

     “ _What_?  Why would you—did she find out about it?”

     “She may have suspected for a while that I wasn’t the decent husband I claimed to be.  But she was surprised to learn I’d—” he looked over at Idan— “Allowed it to get that far.”

     “Is Idan in danger?” Ysia asked, forcing the words past the fear that had begun to strangle her.

     “No, but—we want to adopt Idan.  As our own.”

     That certainly wasn’t where she was expecting this to go.  She was in such shock, she couldn’t control how her face contorted into a confused scowl.  There was no way she heard him right.  Adopt Idan?  That didn’t sound right.

     “I’m sorry?”

     Maybe there was a chance she’d misheard him.  He **_had_** to have said something else.  Never in a million years would Echren want Idan, to take responsibility _for_ him, let alone responsibility _of_ him. 

     “We’d take over his care, he’d be free to live as he wants.  Anything he could ever ask for.  Toys, education, a family…”

     It was like the lightning in the distance had suddenly struck right through her.  Every limb went rigid with overwhelming fear and disgust.  The very idea of Idan growing up as a spoiled rotten adopted child of a Sith Lord and her less successful military husband.  She’d seen Gala.  It didn’t take a genius to realize that she wasn’t the most admirable of people.  That didn’t happen on its own, and she had a feeling it started early.

     “He has a family,” she kept her voice so low it tickled her throat trying to repress it.

     “I suppose, but he’d have siblings, a mother, and father—”

     “ _I’m_ his mother.”

     “Yes,” Echren cleared his throat, the same throat Ysia wanted nothing more than to punch, “But I think we can both agree that I can give him things you can’t.”

     Her blood was either boiling or freezing over.  It was both, perhaps, because she couldn’t discern one from the other. 

     “For someone who refused to recognize him as theirs, you seem awfully attached to him,” she said defensively.  She couldn’t think of anything else to say.  The only other thing she could think of to do was slap him, and as much as she wanted to allow herself the pleasure, it’d only hurt her, and Idan, in the long run.

     “I’ve gotten to know him, he’s a decent boy—smart.”

     “Yes, he is,” Ysia could at least agree with that, “But I think obsessively watching him from across a work site and knowing him are two different things.”

     “So, what do you think?”

     “You want an answer now?”

     “Well I mean, is it a no, or will you think about it?”

     “Is this just so you have a chance at hitting the Sith Academy Honor Student trifecta?”

     “Oh please, don’t be stupid.  We don’t even know if he’d qualify to be Sith, he hasn’t shown any signs of the force yet.  Has he?”

     “No,” Ysia gritted her teeth.

     “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

     “You’re suggesting I give up my son to you and a woman I’ve never met.”

     “Our son.”

     “Go to hell, Overseer,” Ysia wanted to spit at him, but she held herself back.  Instead, she chose to try and walk away, but Echren grabbed her.  She spun back at him, causing him to lose his footing a little as he took a quick step backward.

     “He wasn’t your son when he was sick, he wasn’t your son when I carried him, and he won’t be your son, so you can mold him into the same twisted thing your daughter is.”

     “About Gala again?  She’s harmless.  She hasn’t even been around in a year.  She has better things to do than stalk slaves.”

     “That tells me more than I needed to know.  He’s a slave, and that’ll always bother you, even if you won’t admit it.”

     “I’m trying to help him, Ysia, not hurt him.”

     “And what will you tell him about me?  How will you explain that he has to leave me behind?”

     “I’d leave that to you.”

     “As I thought,” Ysia scoffed, ripping her wrist out of Echren’s hand, “Enjoy your evening, _sir_ , thank you for checking in on us.”

     “At least think about it, Ysia, for Sith sake…”

     “Oh, I’ll _absolutely_ think about it, really _really_ hard.”

     “We aren’t done talking about this,” Echren began.

     “Like hell we are,” Ysia mumbled softly, knowing he’d be unable to hear her with all the other sounds of construction around them.

     “What was that?”

     “Of course, Overseer,” she looked over her shoulder.

     She shot him a forced smile as she returned to her son.  Echren watched Idan watch his mother, pausing for a moment before leaving the tunnel.

    

* * *

 

 

     Dinner was on the table, dull and floppy vegetables with rice and a frozen poultry patty for each of them.  Ysia was starving, but even she knew better than to attempt to try the oddly green chunks of tuber.  Idan looked even less pleased, the right corner of his lip curled upward as he picked up his poultry disk and clear yellow grease dripped out of it.

     “Eck,” he rolled his eyes.  He kicked the leg of the table by accident as he swung his legs.

     “Hey, buggo, can I ask you something?” Ysia asked, resting her chin on her arm.

     “Yup,” Idan looked up from his plate, “You can ask me a lot of stuff.”

     “If you ever had the chance to be free, what would you do?”

     “Free?”

     “Not a slave anymore.”

     “That can happen?”

     “Under the right circumstances, yes.”

     “What are they?”

     “I’ll get to that in a minute, tell me what you’d want to do first.”

     “I dunno, I never think-ed about it before,” Idan shrugged.

     “You’ve never _thought_ about it before,” Ysia corrected with a soft smile.

     “What would you do, mom?”

     “I’d find a planet with big open fields and even bigger lakes and waterfalls and build a house for you and me.  We’d have a garden, and maybe even a little farm—”

     “Can we have a nerf?”

     “You’d want a nerf?” Ysia chuckled.

     “I’d like one, they look friendly.”

     “Have you ever even seen a nerf?” Ysia twirled noodles around her fork.

     “Auntie Ta showed me on her datapad,” Idan looked at the front doorway, “I miss her.”

     “She won’t be on the evening shift very long, just until the excavator is fixed.”

     “It’s been three days, that’s long enough.”

     “Hey, answer _my_ question now; it’s your turn.”

     “If I was free, I’d get a nerf.”

     “Anything else?” Ysia laughed at how seriously he sounded, “Would you like to—I don’t know; go to the Sith Academy?”  
     Idan scrunched up his nose as his lips curled in disgust.  He stabbed his prepackaged dinner with his butter knife, going right through the ground poultry patty covered in soggy breadcrumbs.

     “No, you said that’s where bad people go to learn how to be bad.”

     “That’s not _quite_ what I said,” Ysia sighed, scooting her chair closer to Idan, “I said that’s where they’d send you alone if they found out about your special powers.”

     “And that’d be bad.  You told me I can’t use my force anyway, so why would I want to go?”

     “ _The_ force, it doesn’t just belong to you.”

     “ _The_ force,” Idan corrected with sarcasm, “I’m not going to go somewhere that makes people bad.  I’m not bad.”

     “No, you’re not bad,” she said, afraid to press the matter further.

     If she got him asking questions, he’d likely never stop.  Someone could overhear him asking about his floating rock, or what they do at the Academy that makes people so bad.  Questions she didn’t have answers anyway.

     “I’d like to have a house with you,” Idan said, offering a goofy closed mouth smile.  He must have sensed her growing anxiety around what they were talking about, “Not by a lake though.”

     “With me?  Really?”

     “Who else am I gonna live with?”

     “Maybe with someone you love—”

     “I don’t like girls,” Idan looked disgusted.

     “It doesn’t have to be a girl.”

     “I don’t like boys either,” he made a ‘bleh’ sound as he stuck out his tongue, “I just like you and Auntie Ta.  She can live with us.”

     “I’m sure she’d like that,” Ysia laughed as she stood from the table, “All done?”

     “Yes.”

     She took his plate to the sink.  Again, he’d barely touched his food.  Her son was all skin and bones, still light enough at seven to be held for extended periods of time. He looked to be about the same size as the neighbor’s five-year-old. 

     “So how do you get free?”

     “Hm?” she mumbled, scrapping his food into a container so she could save it.  Last night’s dinner was also in there, tucked against the duraplast corner.

     “You said you’d tell me how to get freed in a minute.  It’s been a minute.”

     “It has, hasn’t it,” Ysia mumbled, feeling as if she’d cornered herself by promising to explain later.

     “So?  How do you do it?”

     “You have to listen to your mother and not cause any more trouble.”

     “I don’t think it works like that.”

     “No?”

     “No.”

     “And how do you know?” Ysia chuckled.

     “Because not everyone has a mom to listen to.  That means it’s unfair.”

     “That’s true.  But not everything’s fair, bug.  I’ve told you that.”

     Idan sighed with his shoulders, looking displeased.

     “It should be.”

     “I can’t agree with you more.”

     “Can I float the crystal now?”

     “Can you what the what?” Ysia turned back to her son, one brow arched in confusion.

     “Auntie Ta showed me how to make my crystal float, but I can only do it when it’s safe.  That’s what she told me.”

     “She showed you how to—” Ysia cut herself off.  She’d told Ta two years ago to drop the idea of Idan being force sensitive.  Even if he was, telling him wasn’t going to help them any.  And she thought she had.  Clearly not.

     “No, Idan.  Go get washed up for bed,” Ysia said, angrier than she’d intended to.

     “But I—”

     “Now,” she widened her eyes as she looked down at him.

     Big brown eyes were scowling up at her, it was funny how much he looked like her when he was mad.  She wanted to laugh and hug him, holding him close as she told him how she never wanted him to change.  But she didn’t.  Instead she hardened her stare until he hopped down from the chair with enough attitude to make Gala look polite by comparison.

     “I want to wear my shirt with the hole in it,” he said. 

     He knew she hated that shirt of his, with a hole at his shoulder.  The collar was fraying and stretched, a large unidentified stain on the sleeve.  The shirt was nearly as old as he was, a hand-me-down from a friend.  He’d once worn it as a nightgown as he’d toddled around the room.  Now it was still a little big on him but appeared more shirt than a dress.  He’d beg her to let him keep it every time she did the laundry.

     “If you must,” Ysia turned back to the dishes, filling the sink with a bit of water.  She was too tired to fight with him about that damn shirt. As the faucet turned on, the water stalled, and she heard a pip creak, “Oh come on, what now?”

     “What is it?” Idan ran to her side, peeking up into the sink as he stood on his toes.

     “I don’t know—” she began as a long black Kaasian slugleech plopped out of the faucet’s mouth, landing in the metal sink with a loud fat thud.  Water came pouring out after it.

     “Ugh!” Ysia turned her head away in disgust.

     “What is that?” Idan jumped, trying to get a better look.  He reached a hand into the sink blind, and Ysia quickly swatted it away.

     “Don’t _touch it_ , Idan!” she said, half in laughter and half in disgust, “It could bite you.”

     “It doesn’t look like it has a mouth,”

     “Get me a shoe or something.”

     “Why?”

     “So I can squash it.”

     “You can’t kill it!” Idan gasped, trying to push her away from the sink. Both his little hands pushed against her hips, but she barely budged.

     “I’m not letting you keep it.”

     “Then let it go!”

     “It’s a slugleech, it must’ve fallen into the water tank from a tree or something,” Ysia shook her hands, disgusted at the idea of having to clean its remains out of the sink, “Go wash up, I’ll put it outside.”

     “No, you won’t, you’re lying.  You’ll kill it when I turn around.  I know you will!”

     “I won’t, now go get your pajamas on; I’ll even let you wear the one with the hole.”

     “No,” Idan stomped his foot, proudly lifting his chin.

     “Fine, then you get it,” Ysia took a step back from the sink.

     “Huh?”

     “I’m not going to touch that thing, so if you want to rescue it, go right ahead.  Use a chair if you have to, here—” she grabbed the chair behind her and pushed it up to the sink— “Go on bug.  Get the bug.”

     “O—Okay,” Idan frowned as he looked back into the sink.  He looked between the chair and her before climbing onto it, “Can I have a towel?”

     “Sure,” Ysia pulled the one she’d tucked into her green wrap skirt, handing it to Idan.  He took it gingerly, Ysia could already tell he was going to give up.

     “Hm,” he whimpered, casting one last worried glance to her, hoping she’d stop him. 

     The fact that he’d made it this far impressed her already. Normally he would’ve told her he didn’t want to before climbing up on the chair.  But he was on the chair, and with a towel covering his left hand, he was tentatively reaching into the sink.

     Ysia heard a hiss from the sink and Idan jumped back, taking the chair with him.  As she’d been standing behind him, Ysia managed to catch Idan under his arms.  Though the chair made a loud plastic crack as it fell.

     “It _does_ have a mouth, mom, it was hiding!” Idan nearly shouted as she brought him back to his feet, “It almost bit me!”

     “Do you still want to—”

     “You need to _kill it_ ,” he shook his head, curls flopping about. His little voice had gone guttural, “But I don’t want to see.”

     “Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” Ysia chuckled.

     “Don’t be mean about it, though,” Idan added.

     “I promise, it won’t feel a thing.”

 

* * *

 

     “Ta!” Ysia said, grabbing the Quarren’s arm and pulling her aside as Idan ran off to find his mother’s toolkit, “We need to talk.”

     The site was still mostly empty, given the early morning hour.  Most shifts wouldn’t start for another hour.  She watched as Idan ran toward the storage shed, making sure he was out of earshot before turning back to Ta.

     “What’s wrong?” Ta blinked.

     “You’re _teaching_ him the force now?”

     “He told you?”

     “You told him to lie to me?”

     “Not lie to you, keep a secret.”

     “Ta!”

     “I’m sorry, Ysia, but he needed an outlet.  He was getting frustrated and—”

     “You should have spoken with me first, I don’t want him doing that kind of thing.  Ever!  Even when you think it’s safe!”

     “I didn’t mean any harm by it, I told him that was all he could do with it.  I didn’t tell him anything else.  All I did was tell him to focus on it, that’s all.  He focused, and it floated in his palm.”

     “I don’t care, he can’t be doing that anymore.”

     “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

     Ysia ran a hand over her mouth as the other went to her hip.  “I can’t lose him, Ta, I—”

     Several tears fell down her face and she quickly brushed them away.  But the sob that came out couldn’t be stopped.  She had to reign it in before someone noticed.

     “Ysia,” Ta put a hand onto her friend’s back, “I didn’t mean to upset you so much—You’re his mother, I should have spoken to you first, you’re right.”

     “No,” Ysia shook her head, sniffling, “It wasn’t—You were just trying to help.  I didn’t mean to—It’s just that— “she looked around quickly, seeing no one nearby— “Echren wants to ‘adopt’ Idan and I don’t know what to do.”

     “He _what_?” Ta gasped, her mouth tendrils splaying outward in shock, Quarren-blue eyes wide, “When?”

     “I don’t know, he said he’s letting me make the decision, but I doubt he meant it.”

     “That’s insane, you can’t!”

     “I know!” Ysia snapped, alerting Idan.  He lifted his head, observing them worriedly, “We’ll talk about this later.”

     “Alright,” Ta said softly, waving at Idan as if everything was fine.  Everything was fine, Ysia told herself.  Right now, everything was just fine.

     “Go talk to him after your shift tonight, I can watch Idan.”

     “Don’t you still have that excavator to repair?”

     “No, I finished it this morning,” Ta shook her head as her mandible clicked shut.

     “I don’t want to talk to him,” Ysia shook her head, stray gray hairs falling out of her loose braid, “He doesn’t deserve the time of day.”

     “No, he doesn’t.  But you need to end this before he thinks it begins.  If you really don’t want him to take him.”

     “Of course I—I don’t—What kind of mother would I be if I said yes?  Just abandoning him in hopes his father won’t royally kriff him over?”

     “I didn’t say it was a good idea, Ysia, I just meant you need to make sure this is what you want.”

     “It is, it has to be,” Ysia cast a look over her shoulder.  Idan obliviously scribbled in his notebook, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he concentrated. 

     

* * *

 

     Rain poured as she stood outside Echren’s office, soaking through the plain cloth scarf she’d draped over her head.  She wrapped it in a ball around her right hand as she walked into the building.  Jennet, a pureblooded Sith officer, sat at her desk in front of Echren’s door, squinting at her console screen as she hit one button over and over again on her keypad.  A silky black bob stopped right at her uniform’s shoulders, reflecting the dull red lighting against the wall behind her.

     “Do you have an appointment?” she asked without looking away from her console.

     “No,” Ysia said.  Her nerves about being here hadn’t been a problem until that very moment.  The courage that had been nearly seeping through her pores had suddenly vanished altogether, leaving her feeling more than unprepared.

     “You’ll have to make one if you—”

     The door to Echren’s office hissed open and he appeared like the romantic hero he’d always thought himself to be.  Broad shouldered, even more so under his formal uniform’s jacket. 

     “I wasn’t expecting you, Aramysia,” he said, fixing his cufflink, “It’s alright, Lieutenant, she’s a friend.”

     Ysia caught the raised brow of Jennet as Echren smiled, alluringly charming as ever with teeth that were five shades too bright.

     “Come in, I’m afraid I only have a moment.”

     She followed him into his tiny, windowless office. 

     “You’re dressed up,” Ysia mumbled, “Sir.”

     “I’m attending an anniversary party for me and my wife later, at her father’s estate.”

     Ysia slowly shook her head.  There had been a point where she’d realized that she knew more about Echren’s extended family than her own.  He was so vocal about them, obviously proud.  She began to chew on her lower lip, feeling even worse than she had before. 

     “Is this about our son?” Echren asked loudly.  Ysia jumped, looking behind her to see the door wide open and Jennet staring at her.

     With a tight, closed-lip smile, Ysia waved her hand in front of the door’s control.  Neither of the women broke eye contact until it closed between them.

     “My son,” she corrected.

     “We’ll see,” Echren chuckled, turning to her to lean on his desk.

     Fingers twisted in her green overskirt, nervously pulling at the fabric.

     “No, we won’t see.  You can’t have him.”

     “Ysia, take more time to think about it—”

     “I’ve decided, I’m his mother, he’s staying with me.”

     “You’re that selfish that you’ll keep him a slave?”

     It seemed he intended to have this conversation the hard way.  By throwing underhanded insults at her, hoping to shame her into submission.

     “I gave you my answer, you told me you’d respect it,” she swallowed past her fear, “Have a good evening, Echren.”

     Once she’d unwound the scarf she’d wrapped around her hand, she turned from him refusing to give him eye contact.  Gently, she put the scarf back over her messy dark hair.

     “Ysia, he’s my son too,” Echren sighed.

     She stopped at the doorway, hands still in the scarf she had begun to put around her head.  Quietly, she lowered the scarf back to her shoulders and turned around.  Green eyes locked onto brown as she glared at Echren through furrowed brows.

     “No!” she snarled, feeling more enraged by the second, “He’s not your son too!  You made that very clear the day he was born.  And several years after that.  You don’t get to claim him now because he looks like you and you’re hoping you’ll be able to live vicariously through the son you always wanted but never got from Remmal.  Now she’s ready to let you have it and you’re willing to take away _my_ son to get it.”

     “This has nothing to do with Remmal.”

     “You’re right, it doesn’t.  It’s always about you.”

     “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

     “You’re not going to have him.  I won’t allow it.”

     “I don’t technically need your permission.”

     “And _there he is_.  See, I knew you were in there somewhere.  Just as conniving as you’ve always been.  Yes, take Idan by force.  See what happens.  I have my own friends here, Overseer.  And we can make things exceedingly difficult for you if we wanted.”

     “Now you’re threatening a riot?”

     “You’re threatening to take my son away.”

     Two large steps of Echren’s long legs and he was a breath away from Ysia’s face.  The back of her head hit the wall as she tried to move backward.  Both his arms extended, palms planting themselves on the wall on either side of her head.  He hunched his shoulders, leaning down a little so he could be at eye level with her.

     “Any other slave, and you’d be a writhing corpse on the floor,” he whispered.  His voice was guttural and primal, nearly making the air around her vibrate, “You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you, Ysia.”

     None of his actions helped his case with her.  She flitted her eyes up to his, glaring at him past furrowed brows.

     “You’re disgusting,” she said softly.

     The opened handed slap she received wasn’t unexpected, but it still made her gasp.  Echren began to huff, breathing loudly through his nose as his face turned red.  His temper was right on schedule.

     “Do you hit your children too?  Or just the women stupid enough to let you fuck them?”

     Choking silence filled the office.  The sexual tension Echren had been trying to build had been stomped out under Ysia’s muddy shoe.  Echren was a little stunned by her words, unsure of how to respond.  But Ysia was inwardly celebrating.

     Echren held her stare for a long moment.  Both of them forgot to breathe.  The silence was almost too much to endure, Ysia felt deafened by the sound of her own heartbeat.  So, she inhaled, and though it was soft, it might as well have been as loud as a swoop bike engine.

     “He’ll have a better life with me,” Echren lifted his hands from the wall and stood straight, “With Remmal.”

     “He already has one.  With me.  I’ve never even met your wife, stop mentioning her like I know her.  For all I know she could be exactly like that sleemo daughter of yours.”

     “Sleemo? Don’t bring Gala into this again, she has nothing to do with it.”

     “She has _everything_ to do with it!” Ysia snarled, throwing her hands into the air, the scarf falling from her shoulders and onto the floor.  She didn’t notice as she trampled it as she took another step deeper into Echren’s office.

     “Sir?  Do you need me to call security?” came the voice of Echren’s assistant over the comm on his desk.

     Ysia’s mouth clamped shut, and she swallowed past her anger.  Her heart thumped against her chest like it was trying to break out.  Through unblinking eyes, she watched as Echren put his finger on the button to speak.

     “No, Jennet, it’s alright,” Echren sighed, looking away.  He kept Ysia in silence as he rounded his desk, settling into his chair and steepling his fingers, “If you’d like to continue this conversation as a civilized adult rather than a screaming child, you’re welcome to stay.”

     “There’s nothing left to say.  You can’t have Idan.”

     “We’ll see.  I’ll give you more time to think about it.”

     “I don’t want more time to think about it, I’m telling you no.”

     “You can’t make this kind of decision right now, you’re too emotional.  Take more time.  Think of what’s best for Idan.”

     A large exasperated sigh escaped her, her shoulders lifting and dropping dramatically.  There were so many names she wanted to call him right now, none of them appropriate.  But his words had already sewed seeds of doubt.  Deep in the back of her mind, thoughts she didn’t even know existed, began forming.  Thoughts of what Idan’s life would be if he grew up as Echren’s son rather than hers.  Would he still be her Idan, or would he be twisted and vile like his sister?  Try as she might, she couldn’t picture her little boy with those ghastly sith eyes. 

     “I suppose I’ll talk to you soon then, Overseer,” she said, diverting her eyes.

     “Good night Ysia, say hello to our son for me,” Echren added as Ysia turned back to the doorway.  She could hear the smarmy smile in his voice.  She’d never wanted to kick someone into the atmosphere so badly.  Watch all his blood boil as he reentered orbit unprotected, his eyeballs turning to steam.

     Ysia nodded politely to Jennet as she left the office, and the building altogether.  Back outside in the rain, she reached to her shoulders for the scarf.

     “Son of a Hutt—” she growled, having realized she’d left it inside.  There was no way she was going to go back to get it now.   

     “ _Our son_ ,” she repeated to herself as she trudged back to the slave quarter of the camp, “Slug brained bastard.  I’d give my left foot to have him fed to a sarlacc.”

 

 

 


	5. Part One Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ta comes over for caf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual, for reasons I'll touch on later.

     “Mom,” said a little voice in her ear, stirring Ysia from her sleep, “Wake up, please.”

     A green eye cracked open while the other remained buried in her pillow.  The curly-haired silhouette of her son stood before her, backlit by the blue nightlight on the kitchen counter.

     “Idan?” she lifted herself up on her elbow and squinted at him, “What’s wrong?”

     “Nothing,” he said, “Can I go play with Deek and Rintam?”

     Those names were familiar, Deek in particular.  It now took two hands to count the times she had to speak to Deek’s father about his tormenting of her son.  Both of them big blundering idiots, brains too small for their bulky heads.  Confusion morphed into suspicion as her brows sank into a concerned glare.

     “Deek?”

     “Yeah,” he was practically levitating with anticipation, his arms became squirmy noodles he couldn’t keep still, and he kept hopping from one foot to the other.

     “I don’t know, bug—” Ysia sat up in the lower bunk, “—How long have you been awake?”

     “Long enough,” he shrugged, “Mommy, they’re waiting for me. I need an answer.”

     Hitting the switch on the wall beside the bed, the wall lamp turned on, illuminating Idan’s face.  He was smiling bigger than she’d seen him smile in weeks, almost to the point of maniacal.  Between that and his giddiness, how in the stars was she supposed to say no?

     She didn’t trust Deek as far as she could throw him, which in honesty wasn’t that far.  He was large for his age; large enough that Ysia might injure something attempting to punt the little punk halfway to Hutta.  Not that she wouldn’t be willing to try if she felt it was necessary.

     “You need to be careful,” she started, knowing he wasn’t actually listening to her as his eyes darted around, “Idan.”

     “I need to be careful,” he met her eyes as he repeated her words.

     “If Deek tries anything, you come right home.  Do you understand?  You come back home, and you tell me,” she hated being so serious with him, she knew he didn’t like it, “Idan tell me you heard me.”

     “I _know_ ,” he began rocking back and forth, “Please, can I go now?”

     Deek would turn Idan to rubble in seconds.  So far, it’d been nothing beyond cruel words and shoving.  The idea of Idan being with him alone, where she couldn’t see him—It frightened her, but she knew she should be celebrating her son’s desire to be more independent.

     “I don’t like the idea of you going somewhere with him alone.”

     “I won’t be alone, I said Rintam is going,” he whined, a hand flying into his messy hair, curls flying upwards in every direction.

     “Just Rintam?”

     “And Dal’jri.”

     “And where are you all going?”

     “The patch.”

     “The patch?”

     “The patch.”

     The patch.  The closest thing the camp had to a secret hang out for children.  An uncreative name for a flowery clearing in the jungle within camp parameters.  The worst thing that could happen to him there could happen anywhere else; the patch had no additional dangers than their daily walk home.

     “You don’t go anywhere but the patch, okay?”

     “Mom—”

     “Idan.”

     “Okay,” he said softly, rocking back on his heels.

     “Go on then,” Ysia lightly pushed his shoulder.

     Idan took off with a leap, making it to the door before spinning around and rushing back to her.  Before she could ask what, he’d forgotten he threw his arms around her, nearly pulling her out of bed.

     “Thank you,” he said, though his voice was muffled by her shoulder.

     Idan spending time with others his age rather than just her and Ta was something she’d been hoping for, what she’d been encouraging.  To tell him no now, because of creeping suspicion, would only deter him from trying again in the future.  So she stuffed her worry down, to the point where it was no longer an issue; neatly filed away into things she’d upset herself with if the time called for it.  Hopefully, it never would.

     “Wait, did you want breakfast?”

     “No.”

     “Right, why did I ask.  Have fun, but come back if it starts to rain, yeah?” she said as he let go, untangling his skinny arms from around her shoulders, “I don’t want you getting sick.”

     Again.

     “I promise.  Bye, I love you,” he said, already half out the door.

     “You too, bug,” she said, but he was already gone. 

     With no Idan to take care of, she laid back into bed.  The fan attached to the underside of Idan’s bunk above her oscillated back and forth, blowing a mildly cool breeze against her face.  The option to go back to sleep was too tempting to pass up.

     But instead, her mind raced with thoughts of her son.  Who he was, who he could be, and how it all depended on one momentous decision that’d been dropped on her like a duracrete slab.  No matter how sure she pretended to be about refusing Echren’s proposition, there was always that speck of doubt, chewing at her.

     “Idan Tiern,” she said out loud. 

     It’d be his name if she said yes.  There was no way Echren would take credit for Idan and not slap his stupid surname at the end.  It sounded terrible to her, ugly and forced.  She’d never spoken her own name to Idan, their name.  It was a name that held nothing but bad debts and broken promises.  The plan had been to start fresh once Idan was born, leave the name she’d been given by her father behind.  Just as he’d left her and her mother behind.

     As much as she was ready to deny it, she knew Idan was force sensitive.  It wouldn’t take long for Echren and his wife to notice.  He’d be a Sith, just like his sisters; even go on to survive his trials like Gala.  Become a sith lord or something, however their ladder of power worked.

     Ysia opened her eyes again, now fully aware that she was awake and that there was no chance she’d ever be able to fall back asleep.  There wasn’t exactly any reason to get out of bed though.  Except for that new jar of instant caf powder she’d gotten in the week supply drop.  A rare treat for herself, she’d been amazed there were any left to take by the time she got Idan to focus long enough to put his clothes on and drag him to the supply tent.  One single jar, sitting right in the middle of the table where they dumped everything for the slaves to sift through.  Extra supplies cost labor, but her additional two hours of work were worth it once she got that mug of hot caf in her hands.

     Tempted by the idea of the sensation of a warm mug in her hands, Ysia left her bed. It wasn’t until the fan’s breeze was off her face that she noticed how stagnant and thick the air was.  A storm was on its way, a big one.  She glanced at the entry, the yellow curtain still as stone.  She could only hope Idan would be home before it came their way.  He had a habit of getting sick whenever he spent too much time in the rain.

      There was a knock at the entry as Ysia reached into the one cupboard they had for the jar of caf.  It was light, three knocks in rapid succession.  Ta.

     “Come in,” Ysia said without turning around.  She reached in again and pulled out two cups.  One tin, the other ceramic.

     “Is Idan still asleep?” Ta whispered as she entered, “I don’t see him.”

     “No, he’s out with the other kids.”

     “Oh,” Ta said a little louder, “Hold on, he’s playing with them?”

     “He is,” Ysia beamed, turning to face her friend as she hit the switch to the kettle, “He begged me to let him go, up before me and everything.”

     “That’s wonderful!” If Quarrens could smile, Ta would be, “Who did he go with?”

     “Deek.”

     “Oh.”

     “And Rintam.”

     “I hope he’s careful, then.”

     “Me too,” Ysia mumbled, turning back to the cups.  She shoveled a few spoonfuls into each cup, “Told him if there’s any trouble to come home.  At least Dal’jri will be there, she has a good head on her shoulders and she seems to like him.”

     “That’s good, at least,” Ta said, shuffling her way to the table and sitting down.

     “Caf?”

     “Please.”

     “So, is this just a friendly visit, or was there something you wanted to discuss?” Ysia chuckled as silence settled between them.  It was clear Ta had something on her mind but that she was nervous to bring it up.  The way she twiddled her long fingers and the way she dragged her feet were dead giveaways.

     “Yes, well, there’s been talk around the camp,” Ta said, twirling one of her three fingers around the rim of her tin cup, “About you.”

     “Always talk,” Ysia filled each of the cups with hot water from the finished kettle, “No one has anything better to do around here.  The Empire makes sure of that.”

     She may have been a little too harsh in putting the tin cup down in front of Ta, as caf spilled out over the edge as it clanked onto the table.

     “I know, but this time, people seem to be—Well--I think it’s time to talk to Idan before he gets wind of it.”

     “Idan?  What does he have to do with it?  Are they talking about him?  He’s just a baby, he didn’t ask for any of this.”

     “I don’t think anyone is blaming him.”

     “Good,” Ysia slouched in her chair and brought the cup up to her lips.  The bitter flavor was quickly overpowered by whatever artificial nut flavor they decided to add; she glared at the warped reflection in the black liquid.

     “He has a hard enough time here as it is.”

     “Did he really insist to go play with Deek and those other little sithspawns?”

     “He _really_ did; begged me to let him go this morning.  Our shifts aren’t until later this afternoon, so I let him.”

     “I’m impressed you let him out of your sight.”

     “I’ll have to learn to let go eventually,” Ysia shrugged, but sank down into her chair a little, “I miss him already.”

     “Oh dear,” Ta chuckled.

     “So, what are they saying then?”

     “It’s—it’s a little awkward to bring up but, it’s about you—and Echren—”

     “And Idan,” Ysia finished, “Rumors like that have been around camp since the day I found out I was pregnant.  I’m not worried about them.”

     “But—”

     “Ta, please,” Ysia took a large breath before sighing, “I just want to enjoy the rest of the morning.  _Please_.”

     “Do you want Idan to find out who his father is from a rumor? Or from you?”

     Ysia’s mouth shut quickly and she observed her friend in silence.

     “Because if it were me, I’d want it to be from you.  From my mother.”

     “Are all Quarren as perceptive as you, or is just a you-thing?”

     “As far as my family is concerned, it’s a Quarren thing.”

     “Remind me to never visit Mon Cala unless I want my life choices to be absolutely gutted.”

     Ta smiled with her eyes as her mouth tendrils twitched with amusement, “So then you’ll speak to him?”

     “Yes,” Ysia exaggerated her nod just as Idan did, “I will speak to him.”

     “What are you going to tell him?” she leaned back in the chair.

     _What indeed_ , Ysia thought to herself.  She had seven years to come up with the right explanation but instead chose to lie to his face and come up with a fake name and backstory.  A name she didn’t even remember unless Idan reminded her, and the backstory changed each time she told it; Idan was always happy to fix the details she got wrong from the last telling.

     How could she explain to him that she lied to protect them?  He already felt so different from the other children.  And the overhanging threat of Echren adopting him, stealing him away from her, just complicated everything. 

     “I don’t know,” Ysia answered honestly.  With a bandaged finger, she tapped the edge of her cup.  Chipped and faded, it had probably once belonged in a set.  She didn’t remember how the cup came into her possession, but it’d become her favorite.  It was always the one Idan would grab from the counter when he made her tea.

     “I’ll think of something,” she added.

     “It’d be best to do it quickly before he gets wind of it.”

     “Why the sudden resurgence of gossip about me?  I thought we’d be done with all that by now.  Have we really nothing better to do around here?”

     She already knew the answer to her question before the words finished leaving her lips.  They did not have anything better to do.

     “The way Echren’s been staring at you.”

     Two weeks and three days since Echren’s proposal of adoption.  He hadn’t spoken to her, giving her the time she requested, but she could tell he was growing impatient.  Hard stares from across the camp were easy to spot and were becoming more frequent.  It was beginning to feel he’d find a reason to walk past her, just so he could stare.  He was being stupid by being so obvious.  He didn’t care if he was putting her in an uncomfortable and potentially dangerous position.  As long as he got what he wanted.

     “He’s trying to intimidate me.”

     “Trust me, I know that.”

     “Can we speak of something else?  For the love of a Hutt—”

     “You love a Hutt?”

     Ysia snorted softly as she shrugged, “Old term I heard a while back.”

     From her father.  He would always say it as he ran a hand over his face, pinching his chin between his finger and thumb as it traveled down.  Always about the same things.  She’d come home late, her mother wasn’t answering her holo, he was in over his head at the casino.  Now that she thought about it, it seemed to have been his reaction to everything.

     “Oh,” Ta wiggled in her chair as she sat back, “Back on Nar Shaddaa?”

     A nostalgic twinkle fluttered in her heart as Ysia nodded.

     “Do you think Idan would like it there?”

     “No, Idan would _hate_ it there.  Too loud and too bright, he’d say.”

     “He wants to live on a farm, doesn’t he?” Ta said, “He won’t stop talking about owning a nerf one day.”

     The nerf again.  Ever since he saw that picture of one, he’d been obsessed with them.  As she opened her mouth to answer, shouting came from outside.  Too far away to make out the words, but the tone was clear. 

     “What’s all that?” Ta stood as Ysia did.

     “I don’t know,” Ysia mumbled, walking to the front doorway.  The yellow curtain was damp from that night’s rain and it clung to the skin on Ysia’s hand as she pushed it aside.  A crowd was gathering farther up the camp, about twenty slaves all moving in one mass towards the gate up the hill.

     “I have no desire to go see what that’s about,” Ysia grumbled, cocking her eyebrow, “Someone probably got hurt at the site.”

     “You think?  Seems like an awful lot of fuss.”

     “Maybe someone died?”

     “Oh!” Ta blustered as she splayed her tendrils, “Ysia, don’t joke about that!”

     “I wasn’t joking—” Ysia’s chuckle faded as someone stood out from the pack at the gate.  An officer, carrying someone.

     “You don’t think someone actually died, do you? That’d be awful—But honestly the safety precautions down there are next to nothing and I wouldn’t be surprised if—”

     “Ta…” Ysia tried to say, but her voice creaked and broke.  There was a tug, pulling at her, warning her.  Suddenly the air around her became dense with realization and dread.  That officer was carrying the body of a child.

     It didn’t mean it was Idan.  There were plenty of children in the camp now; Idan had gone off to play with four children all around his age.  He was small, the size of a five-year-old.  That could be anyone in that officer’s arms.  The tall officer with gray hair.  And broad shoulders.

     “Yes?”

     “Is that Echren?” Ta said as if she’d been reading Ysia’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger reasons.


	6. Part One - Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ysia frantically searches for answers

Last year the fence that separated the slave and the officer halves of the camp had been struck by lightning.  It took Ysia and two others three days to get to a point where it would turn on—for ten seconds before it sputtered out once again.  The blue energy barrier had faded out, and the fence was once again nothing but a bunch of hollow squares.  There had been an attempted riot the fourth night; a renegade group sneaking into the armory after taking out the limited guard set up at the gate’s perimeter.  It was squashed quickly, but the camp had been kept on lockdown until all those responsible were properly identified.  The next day, rolls of chainlink appeared, and Ysia and the others were handed the what few tools they needed to get the job done before nightfall.

            The chainlink fence rattled as it closed now, shutting on the small crowd that’d formed around it.  Once they realized they weren’t going to find out anything, many lost interest and dispersed.  Someone loudly announced they’d found a shoe belonging to a child as they held it up over their head proudly as if it were a priceless treasure. 

            Ysia took a small leap into the air, her hand grabbing the shoe from the twi’lek who’d found it.

            “Hey!” they said, baring their pointed teeth in anger.

            “Oi, what are you going to do with one shoe?” Ysia opened her arms to welcome a challenge, but the twi’lek grumbled and rubbed his wrist before retreating with the others.

            As she turned the small boot over in her hands, a fair amount of water poured out.  Odd, given the lack of rain for the past few days.  It was a standard cheap shoe, provided to most of the children in the camp.  On Idan’s, she’d used a utility knife to carve his name in aurebesh on the sole.  It wasn’t her first language, and she wasn’t as familiar with the alphabet, but she’d done a decent job.  Fear stopped her from looking at the bottom of the boot.

            “Is it Idan’s?” Ta said from over her shoulder, giving her the bravery she needed to look.

            Idan.  Plain as day, carved deep into the rubber sole. 

            “Yes,” she said after chewing a bit of the inside of her cheek.

            The loud clattering of the gate sliding shut caused both Ysia and Ta to look up.  Major Herika stared at them, like the crab he was.  It wasn’t so much that the Major looked like a crab—although the way he held his datapad made his hands look unusually pincher like—but rather that he’d gotten into a fight with one on his face.  Thin lips forever bent downwards where the hypothetical crab had hung from his jowls and eyes that held everyone in suspicion as if at any second a familiar crustacean would come scuttling over their shoulder.

            “Go back home, nothing to see,” he said through his nose, checking the magnetic lock as it hummed shut. 

            “You have to let me through,” Ysia closed the space between her and the fence, fingers gripping the chainlink.

            “I don’t have to let you do anything,” the Major scoffed, “Arm.”

            Ysia had already raised her arm to the fence, ready to be scanned.  Halfway up her forearm was a small, faded scar where a tracking chip had been embedded under her skin.  Previous masters had preferred collars, huts enjoyed reminding those they owned that they were slaves.  The Empire preferred the cheaper alternative, the kind that would explode with any sort of tampering. 

            The Major lifted his head, his natural frown deeper than before.  The blue glow of the datapad illuminated every droplet of sweat on his brow.  With a grumble about not having the time, he reached to his belt and pulled out the small handheld scanner.  There was an affirmative beep as he scanned her arm, something popping up on the datapad with a red flashing light.

            As he poked at the notification, Ysia searched the yard behind him.  Five officers were walking between the separate durasteel structures, some hurrying to try and get out of the rain that had begun to fall.  All of them busy with their duties.  Echren was gone, and Idan along with him.  She once thought Echren capable of anything, but now found it difficult to believe him capable of taking her son so blatantly and with so many witnesses.  It was too flashy—too obvious.

            “Looks like you’ve already used your passes for the week,” the Major whined, “You’ll have to come back when the new week starts tomorrow.”

            “Please, that was my son—” Ysia pressed herself harder against the fence—“In the Overseer’s arms.”

            “Good for him, but you’re not going anywhere.”

            “Sith spit,” she reached through the fence, outstretch fingers reaching for his neck, but barely grazing the edge of the datapad in his hand. 

            The Major sneered as he took a half step backward, “Try that again, see what happens.”

            “Let her take one of mine, I know I have them—” Ta said.

            “That’s not how it works and you’ve been here long enough to know that.”

            “You’re just being unreasonable on purpose,” Ta clicked her mandible in frustration.

            “As to what, by accident?” the Major laughed but the scowl on his face never faltered, “I have half a mind to write you up for an infraction.”

            “An infraction?” Ta scoffed, “What did I do?”

            “I just need to know he’s alright!” Ysia shook the fence, “Where’s Idan?”

            “Calm down, slave, that’s a warning.  I’ll write you both up if I have to.”

            “It’s her _son_ ,” Ta hissed, her tendrils splaying outward in a primordial display of rage.

            “I don’t care if it’s the Emperor,” he shook his head, “Come back when you have more passes.”

            “Overseer Tiern is going to want me there--” she began, failing to think of a reason why other than ‘that was my son’.

            “Oh?  Well, in that case, come on in,” he gestured grandly, “ _When you have more passes!”_

            With the heels of her palms, she hit the fence.  Her foot slipped in the heavily treaded mud and she fell backward with a loud splat.  It was impossible to discern whether time was too fast or too slow as she listened to the Major laugh.  Mud was soaking into her clothes, but she didn’t have the strength to lift herself, even with Ta’s hands at her back.  The overwhelming urge to cry was stuck in her chest, refusing her to relieve her growing horror. 

            “He’s taking him,” Ysia said, words so brittle they nearly fell apart on her tongue.  She turned to Ta, grasping at the Quarren’s sleeves as she had the fence, “I knew he would, I knew he’d take him.  _Damn it!_ ”

            “You won’t do Idan’ any good on the ground, come on,” Ta pushed at her back, trying to encourage her to move.

            “No, Ta, just leave me, I need a minute.”

            “I’m not leaving you in the mud,” Ta clicked her mandible and rolled her eyes.

            “My legs won’t work,” Ysia swatted Ta’s hand away again.

            “ _Get up_ , Aramysia,” Echren’s voice boomed over the hardening rain.  He loomed behind Major Herika like the half-built colossus above them.  The Major shrieked, dropping his datapad into the mud with a splat.

            “Sir!” the Major gulped, fumbling with the scanner he nearly dropped as well, “I didn’t hear you approach.”

            “Get up,” Echren said to Ysia again, louder and angrier.

            “Where’s Idan,” Ysia said, planting her hands in the mud at her sides, anchoring herself there until she got an answer.

            “You’re being a child.  Get out of the dirt, slave,” he growled.

            “Where’s Idan,” she demanded.

            “Ysia, come on, please,” Ta whispered into her ear, pushing on her back again.  Ysia didn’t budge.

            “Give me back my son,” Ysia glared through the gate, spitting out the rain that had collected on her lips.

            “Open the gate, Major,” Echren ordered.

            “Sir?”

            “Now.”

            “You’re going to get it now, slave,” the Major snickered, switching off the magnetic lock.

            “I told you to get up,” Echren bared his teeth as he leaned down and grabbed Ysia’s wrist, hauling her to her feet.  Before she could go limp again to spite him, Echren grabbed her shoulders and pressed his mouth to her cheek.

            “If you want to see our son again, behave yourself,” he whispered before pushing her ahead of him, “Move, now.”

            “Sir, should I start the infraction paperwork for you—” the major began to chitter, “The Quarren was also—”

            “Shut up, Herika,” Echren hissed as he directed Ysia through the gate, “You should be at the site by now for your secondary post, shouldn’t you?  Go, before I write you up for being late.”

            Ysia listened to the Major stutter with his respectful response for a moment, letting Echren lead her in the direction he’d taken Idan.  Echren’s words could have been a threat; or they could have been warning her to behave so she could see Idan fast, rather than having to get written up and held in the camp’s holding cell for a few hours.   Her shoes slapped at the newly wet ground.  The heavy rain now pinged off the durasteel sheets that’d been thrown down to prevent excessive mud.

            Without a clear idea of where Idan had been taken, she wasn’t quite sure where she was going.  Instinct was guiding her towards Echren’s office on the opposite side of the camp.  Ysia cast a glance over her shoulder, Echren was catching up to her and Ta was worriedly waiting behind the gate, which had been locked again. 

            “Honestly, how old are you; sitting in the mud like a toddler—” Echren grabbed her upper arm as he caught up, giving it a single shake and knocking her off balance.

            “You already took him, didn’t you?” Ysia said angrily, ripping her arm away from him as she stumbled her next few steps.

            “Took him? What are you talking about—Idan fell into the river, the only place I took him was the medbay.”

            “The river?”

            The rain was coming down in sheets now.  Sounds of a storm rumbled in the distance as a hot unrefreshing breeze blew at Ysia’s unkempt hair.   Echren’s hand skimmed her sleeve as he tried to grab her as she took off, running at full speed.  He called for her, told her to wait.  There was no way she could wait.

            In the seconds it took for her to reach the doorway, nearly slipping on the durasteel floor with her slicked mud-covered shoes, thousands of terrible things had passed through her mind.  Idan and any body of water was worrisome enough, he didn’t know how to swim.  There had never been a reason to teach him.  But the river.  How many times had she warned him about that river.  There was a name for the river in camp, an old Huttese term for suicide.  There had been two people to survive an escape attempt by crossing it, out of dozens.  Neither of them got very far due to the injuries they received in doing so.

            What would she see laying in the bed around the corner?  The only thing she could think of was the skewed remains of her son, mangled by the violent current and jagged rocks.  Would she even recognize him?  She’d seen more than her fair share of bodies wash up along the river bed down by the worksite.  Most of them were no longer intact.  What if he was missing a limb now?  Was he even alive?  And if he was alive, how much longer did he have?

            The short corridor separating the recovery room from the rest of the cramped medical building began to stretch out in front of her.  She hadn’t realized she’d been gripping the wall for support until her fingertips hurt.  Echren called to her, telling to wait.  Part of her wanted to, maybe she wasn’t ready to see what was just beyond the doorway.  One last step.  It was both the easiest and hardest step she’d ever taken in her life.  And equally anti-climactic.

            Idan sat in one of the two beds, in dry, off-blue, medical garment, but a puddle of water on the floor and his wet hair told a different story.  There were scrapes on his arms, his eyes were puffy from crying, she could see the trails the tears were leaving, and the stains they created on his shirt.  The partner of the shoe she’d found had was beside the bed, waiting to be reunited.  Ysia let go of the breath she’d been holding, her body visibly relaxing as she watched him pick at the bandage that’d been applied to his forehead.

            “You’re _alive_ ,” she exclaimed, nearly leaping onto the bed beside him, “You’re alive— _Idan_ —”

            Idan didn’t say a word as she embraced him.  A shiver shook his body as his cold wet cheek resting against her collarbone, balancing himself as he settled into her lap.  Hooking a knee around him, she held him the same way she would if he’d just woken from one of his nightmares.   He trembled again, pushing himself as close against her as he could get.

            “Bug, what happened?” she asked.

            “He’s not talking,” Echren said behind her, “To anyone, it appears.”

            “Idan, sweetheart, look at me—” Ysia tried to lean back to see him better, but he whined loudly the second she began to move.  The kind of whine he’d do when he was having a fit when she knew no words would get through to him until he was done experiencing whatever it was he was going through.

            “Ask him who did this to him,” Echren said, impatiently taking a few steps toward the bed.

            “Not now,” Ysia said, tucking her head against Idan’s hair, “It’s okay, Idan, you’re alright.”

            Idan tilted his head up, blinking up at her as his mouth opened, ready for words; none came.  Tears sat unshed in his eyes, eyes that had gone a little blank.  He was confused.

            “Why isn’t he talking?” Ysia looked up to MXR-8, the out of date medical droid the camp kept on hand. 

            Two wobbly legs supported the droid, who’s medical blue paint was peeling.  Her voice box was grainy, glitching out every so often to a whistle that’d make all the nearby birds scream in a frenzy.  Sometimes her eye would pop out of its socket; Idan would always offer to help her stick it back in.  Her long arm stalled as it lifted.

            “The concussion may lead to confusion,” Emex said, her voicebox popping and crackling as she stopped speaking.

            “He must have hit his head when he fell into the river,” Echren said.

            Ysia felt her stomach twist into knots as caf and bile rose in her throat.  With her eyes shut tight, she swallowed past it.

            “Did he fall or was he pushed?”

            “That’s what I’ve been trying to find out, it’s why I came to get you.  I figured he’d at least talk to you.”

            “You should have come to get me because I’m his mother, not because you needed to get him to talk—“ she stopped herself.  This wasn’t the place to argue.  Idan shivering in her arms quickly reminded her of that.

            She turned all her attention to him, temporarily ignoring Echren and his growing frustration.  A gentle hand pushed back the curls that covered the thin bit of kolto soaked linen on his forehead, held in place by hastily placed tape.  Idan leaned his head into her touch, a whimper escaped him as he shifted himself to curl closer against her. 

            “I’m right here, bug,” she said in a whisper against his hair. 

            Echren stood off to the side of the room in silence as they listened to Idan cry. Softly at first, almost as if he was unsure why he was crying.  He got louder, on the verge of hyperventilating until sudden silence.  She watched the heart monitor displayed on the wall console slow and steady out.

            “Is he asleep?” Echren asked, unfolding the arms he’d crossed in his impatience.

            “I think so,” she said tentatively.

            If she moved a muscle, she risked waking him.  The crying could start up again, and while she was never one to stop him from expressing himself through tears, the presence of Echren made things more complicated.  She worried he’d tell her to wake him up, to demand answers to his questions.  Instead, he surprised her, asking Emmex a question with a distinct tone of worry in his voice.

            “Is he allowed to sleep?  What about the concussion?”

            “He is monitored,” Emmex assured them in as few words as possible.  The lights in her eyes flicked for a moment to emulate blinking.

            “Leave us for a moment,” he grumbled, “Now.”

            Emmex nodded her head, her knee joints creaking softly as she shuffled out of the room.  The second they were alone, Echren unbuttoned his soaked uniform jacket and threw it onto the unused bed next to Idan’s.  As she watched him carefully, Ysia didn’t lift her cheek from the top of Idan’s head.  He paced the length of the small room three times before stopping with his hands on his hips. 

            “Did you find him in the river?”

            “No,” Echren shook his head, “He’d already pulled himself up the riverbank, I found him collapsed and barely conscious in the dirt.”

            Ysia lifted her head, feeling Idan’s settle against her collarbone again.  That didn’t make any sense, “What about the other children?”

            “What other children?”

            “Weren’t their others with him?  There was supposed to be three—”

            “There was no one else there, Ysia.  Just him.”

            “Just him?” she repeated as she looked down at Idan.  Eyes were closed but she could tell he wasn’t sleeping.  He had been a moment ago but now he was listening to them.  The way he breathed in his sleep was different, and she’d seen the little peak he’d taken up at her.

            “Idan,” she whispered, “What did you do?”


	7. Part One Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three weeks since Idan fell into the river and stopped talking. Just when Ysia thinks things can't get worse, Echren surprises her with a terrible proposal.

     For three weeks, she’d been enduring Idan’s silence.  His refusal or inability to speak was wearing her down; no amount of coercion was enough to get a mumble out of him.  Promises of ice cream, his favorite soup, extra holo time—none of it interested him.  He would end up frustrated at all of her questions.  Their conversations were now one-sided, with him responding with facial expressions and excessive amounts of blinking.

     Bedtime for him was nearing, she realized as she looked at the chrono over the table.  They’d been sitting on the floor for nearly two hours, hunched over opposite corners of a quilt Ysia had been slowly working on for years.  Idan was focused on his job to reinforce some of the older stitches that’d begun to come apart.

     He tilted his head as he continued, pushing back a curl that’d fallen into his eyes.  The tip of his tongue appeared between his lips as he scrunched up his face in concentration.  Little hands guided the needle and emerald green thread through the scraps of fabric.

     “Just tell me what you’re thinking,” she mumbled, not intending to speak out loud.  Idan looked up, his tongue disappearing back into his mouth, “You don’t have to tell me what happened, bug, I just want to hear—I know you want me to stop asking, but I miss you.”

     Idan looked down at himself then back to her.

     “I know you’re right here,” she chuckled, “It’s just different when you’re quiet.”

     Tilting his head again, Idan went back to stitching.  Ysia sighed, resigned to the fact that she’d gone another day at failing to get her son to speak.  Echren continued to pester her for answers, he was convinced that the children Idan claimed to be playing with had pushed him in and fled.  But Ysia had doubts; she’d spoken to Dal’jri and her grandmother, they’d both claimed they hadn’t spoken to Idan since the day before.  When she went to Idan about it and told him that she believed he’d gone off alone and fallen in, he locked himself in the refresher for thirty minutes.  It was, in its own way, an answer.  Just not the one she’d wanted.

     “Idan,” she said softly as she tucked her needle away, “I love you.”

     A slow blink was his response as he looked back up at her.  She knew what it meant.  He didn’t need to use words to return the sentiment, but stars, she wished he would.

     “I think it’s time to get ready for bed,” she mumbled, tying off the thread and breaking it with her teeth

     After a little prompting, Idan got ready for bed.  The boy who once refused bedtime with the stubborn heart of an akk dog had become a silent drone.  Pajamas put on, teeth brushed, putting himself under the covers; he seemed relieved by the ritual and its completion.  Tonight, he sighed as he laid his head back against his pillow.  He watched as three moths fluttered around the reading light that was fixated to the headboard of the bunk.  He’d positioned it so it was right over his head. 

     Ysia held her breath as she hoped he’d ask her a question about the moths—why did their wings have powder on them or why did they have fuzzy butts?  Questions he’d asked before.  She’d often catch him leaving the light on too long on purpose, just to see how many moths he could gather; a few times she’d waken up in the middle of the night to the sounds of him giggling with the light on, at least two dozen moths all frenzied around him.

     No question came, but Idan still watched the moths intently.

     “Time to turn off the light,” she said, pulling the blanket over his shoulders, “Are you snuggled enough, or do you need more snuggling?”

     Idan threw the blanket up over his head, hiding everything except a patch of hair on the top.

     “All right then,” Ysia leaned forward into the bunk and kissed the blanket where she thought his forehead to be, “I have to finish cleaning up from dinner.  Goodnight.”

    

     With Idan asleep, she felt like she’d failed again.  One more day of silence.  One more thing for Echren to blame her for.  Every day, without fail, he would find her and press her for an update.  He hadn’t expressed his disappointment yet, but she could see him grow more irritated with each ‘no’ she gave.  He had been bold enough to claim her a terrible mother for letting him go off alone, but smart enough to never say so again.

     “Like he watched his children 24/7,” she growled, quickly becoming aware of how tight she was holding the dish in her hand as she continued in Huttese, “ _Hat’ beeogola hu-achah, seel tak.”_

Suddenly the last thing she wanted to do was clean the dishes.  All she wanted was sleep.  With the sink still full of soapy water, she turned and walked into the refresher.  The reflection she caught in the mirror was one of a frazzled middle-aged woman.  She’d blame the humidity, but her hair had always been untamable for as long as she could remember.  Right now, she just wanted the thick mess off her neck. 

     With a hair tie she kept on her wrist, she pulled it back, watching herself through the mirror.  With a voluminous bun at the base of her neck, she put her hands on her hips.  It was a small victory, but she smiled.  There was a snap and before she knew it, all that hair was back on her shoulders and neck.

     “Son of a—” Ysia growled as she searched the small countertop for another tie. While her eyes continued to search the counter, her hand began to search the drawer, “Where are you?”

     There was a light tap on the refresher door.  Idan.

     “Did you forget something?” she chuckled as she closed the drawer and swung the door inward, peaking around the side.  Her eyes settled where she expected to see Idan’s face, but instead there where two adult legs dressed in officer’s trousers.

     With a gasp, she jumped backward and opened the door fully.  Echren blocked her in the doorway, the top of his head only a few millimeters shy of hitting the ceiling.  A scream quickly died in her throat as she remembered Idan sleeping; the last thing he needed to wake up to was the Overseer in their house.

     “Ysia, I wanted to talk to you—” he began.

     “Are you out of your kriffing skull?” she whisper-yelled, pulling him into the refresher.  She pressed her back against the door as it closed, “What are you—Why are you here?”

     Silence hung in the air between them like a thick fog.

     “I brought these for Idan,” he brandished a small box from his inner jacket pocket.

     It was a brightly colored tin of self-adhesive bandages, all with the theme of a popular children’s holovid that followed an impossibly pleasant protocol droid named Emmy as she cleaned up the hilarious messes left behind by her master, an eccentric but cheerful Sith Lord.  She’d managed to overhear the few episodes Idan had watched on their old malfunctioning projector, and it didn’t make sense.  She’d never met a Sith who called their droid ‘dearest’.  The show wasn’t his favorite, he even told her he would have rather been digging for bugs.

     “We have our own bandages,” she said, tucking her chin into her neck as she continued to glare at him.

     “Of course, I just—” he gestured to the box, “I figured he might like the ones with the droid on it.”

     “Thank you, sir,” Ysia said slowly, “But you didn’t have to break into my home to deliver them.”

     “It’s not breaking in when you run the place,” he chuckled.  His smile fell when Ysia’s face remained blank. 

     “Next time I’ll knock,” he offered as his apology, hands up in the air in a show of mock surrender.

     She let him sit in the uncomfortable silence a while longer, crossing her arms as she saw the first hint of sweat gather at his hairline.  His hair was quaft in a way that reminded her of an unpeeled onion, growing out from his head.

     “How is he?” Echren asked carefully, “Any words yet?”

     “No.  When he feels safe again, I’m sure he’ll—”

     “ _Safe_ ,” Echren scoffed, “So that’s a no, then.  You realize it’s been three weeks?”

     “No, silly me, I lost track of the days,” she tapped her forehead, “This old brain of mine…”

     “This isn’t a joke, Ysia!” his voice boomed, Ysia thought she saw the mirror shake.

     “Shut up, will you,” adding under her breath, “You’re howling like an overgrown kor’slug.”

     Echren straightened his shoulders, appearing even more absurdly tall than usual, peering down at her past his crooked nose, “I’d be happy to remind you that I’m the one in the position of power here.  Name-calling is something a child—"

     “I have what you want and you’re too afraid to hurt me to take it without permission, if anyone has the power here, it’s me!”

     “I’m not afraid of—” he sputtered, his jaw hanging open as he tried to make words come out coherently.

     “You knocked on the door rather than steal him out of his bed while no one was looking.  You came to get me after the river instead of taking him out of this camp forever and leaving me to wonder what happened.”

     “Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

     “That’s exactly the kind of man I think you are.”

     Echren tried to step backward, the heel of his boot hit the wall behind him.  Like a cornered animal, he looked over his shoulder; confirming that it was truly a wall behind him and not a window he could leap out of.

     “Remmal is leaving me,” he blurted out in a rushed breath.

     “About time.”

     Echren leaned forward, “You’re walking on a wet rope with silk slippers, Ysia; be careful.  If she gets her way, we could both lose our son.”

     There were holo-novellas less complicated than the inner-workings of the extended Tiern family.  She shook her head, shifting her weight to one foot.  It was becoming impossible to keep track of it all, so she wasn’t all that surprised when she found herself confused.

     “What are you _talking_ about?” she threw her arms out to her sides, accidentally hitting the sink counter with the back of her hand.  She sucked on her teeth as she shook her hand out, “Your divorce has nothing to do with Idan.”

     She realized after she said it, that that may have been mildly untrue.  Idan’s existence coming to light would be a perfectly legitimate reason to end a marriage. 

     “Now she wants him.  Alone.  Claims it will save him from any further humiliation.  She considers me the humiliation, mind you—Or at least having me as a father—”

     The room began to spin with such ferocity that for a moment she forgot she required oxygen to survive.  She inhaled, consciously stopping herself from shouting, “What?”

     “ _Why don’t you try listening_ ,” he clenched his fists at his sides, “She wants to take this from me; the chance to be the father I could have been to Suvia.  And Galadae.”

     “Well tell her there’s nothing for her to take because Idan isn’t yours!”

     Echren’s brown eyes went wide with shock, “What do you mean he isn’t mine?”

     “That’s not—” Ysia glared—“That’s not what I meant.”

     “Because if he isn’t, you need to tell me—”

     The thought to lie crossed her mind briefly; it could have solved this issue altogether, but she knew Echren was thorough and would have Idan’s paternity tested without a second thought, “Stars, Echren, he looks just like you.”

     That seemed to be enough to settle him, though his lips pressed into a thin line as he exhaled loudly through his nose.  The air in the tiny washroom was becoming thick with the smell of Echren’s overzealously applied cologne. Ysia smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she could taste it.

     “I honestly think he looks more like you,” Echren said softly.

     “Tell your wife that you aren’t getting Idan.  And neither is she,” she turned to the door.  As it began to open, Echren’s arm extended over her shoulder, his hand planted against the door as it slammed shut.

     “You’re going to wake him up—” Ysia spun to Echren angrily.

     “I have a proposal for you—”

     “I’m not interested,” she spun again, reaching for the door when Echren took her face into his hands, stopping her, “ _Echren_ —"

     “What if I took both of you?”

     “That’s your proposal for me?  You want to take me with you?  As what?  A house slave?” she craned her neck until he let go, running his fingers through her hair as he leaned forward, wide-eyed and holding his breath.

     “Not a slave, Ysia, _my wife_ ,” he whispered, “Marry me and I’ll free you—both of you.  I’ll legally take on Idan as my own, and Remmal will have nothing left to stand on.  I’ll have won.  _We’ll_ have won.”

     Idan was suddenly nothing more than a prize to be won, like a cheaply made carnival toy hanging on its hook while those below argued over who should get it.  And now Echren was dangling a shiny opportunity right over her nose; promising a happy ever after for the three of them, like in the stories she’d tell Idan; where good would always triumph over evil.  Those lines were becoming increasingly blurry with each passing day.

     “I could take you out of here tonight even—” he said, having become nervous in her silence—"We could leave Dromund Kaas, I hear Ziost is nice.  Start over… as a family.”

     “I’m Idan’s family.  Ta is Idan’s family.”

     “I could be his _father_ ; every boy needs a father—"

     “Suvia died with you as her father.”

     Echren’s mouth shut tightly, his teeth clacked together loud enough for Ysia to hear.  He held her in an unwavering glare for several, long seconds.  Jaw muscles clenched and relaxed as he appeared to chew on the words he was holding back. 

     “That isn’t the same,” he said calmly.

     “How is it not the same?  You’re going to end up sending him to the Academy the second he—” she stopped herself abruptly and bit down hard on her lower lip; on the precipice of saying something she would regret.

     “The second he what, Ysia?” Echren’s voice lowered.

     There was a sneeze outside the door.  Directly outside the door, as if the owner of the sneeze was pressing his ear against the door to eavesdrop.

     “He’s listening,” she whispered.

     “Who?  Idan?” Echren said loudly as he stood straight.

     “Shhh!” she hushed him as softly as possible, putting her hand up in an attempt to stop him from saying anything further.

     They both stayed silent, listening to the rhythmic thuds of bare feet running back to bed.  Stars only knew what he’d heard or how long he’d been listening.   

     “You need to go.”

     “We haven’t finished—”

     “I’ll come talk to you tomorrow, just get out of here,” she opened the door behind her back and stepped out of the refresher.

     “Will you _actually_ come to speak with me tomorrow?” he mumbled, exiting after her.

     “If I don’t you can always come find me.  As you said, Overseer—You run the place and can go wherever you want.”

     Ysia could see Echren physically swallow whatever angry words had just popped into his head.  The yellow curtain over the door swayed in a humid breeze, the scent of promised rain filled the room.  It did a marvelous job of diluting Echren’s perfumed stench.

     “I can’t help you if you don’t let me,” he said, straightening his uniform.

     “I don’t need help, sir.  Have a good evening.”

     “My offer will remain on the table, regardless,” he said with a stern but doleful haze in his eyes.

     There were no words to be said as he finally crossed the threshold of her home and stepped back out into the dark, the yellow curtain falling back down behind him.  Ysia shut her eyes, frozen, as she listened to the mud under his boots slowly grow farther away.  It was only when she could no longer hear them that she relaxed her shoulders.

     Over Idan’s bed, the lamp was on.  Her stomach twisted into another knot, the first having formed during Echren’s intrusion.  How long had he been listening, she wondered but was afraid to ask.  He’d managed to rewrap himself in the blankets, but it was obvious he’d thrown them around himself in a panic.  A foot stuck out from the sheets, bare toes wiggled nervously.  It retracted as she leaned over the bed and turned off the lamp.  The four large pink and yellow moths that’d been fluttering around it all took off in different directions; the smallest found itself trapped in her hair.  With a bit of guidance, she was able to help it out of the tangled mess and watched it on her finger.

     The urge to let Idan know that she knew he was awake had all but disappeared.  Echren had managed to suck any remaining energy she had right out of her.  Heavy eyelids began to fall as the moth took off to join its companions at the purple nightlight on the table.  Instead, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, at least what was visible from the blanket he’d covered most of his head with.

     With all that was going on around them, Ysia couldn’t shake the feeling that they were running out of time.  There was an invisible clock ticking away in her head, counting down to something.   That ‘something’ was still an unknown; death, separation, or some other terrible event. 

     Maybe it would be safer to accept Echren’s proposal, to become the wife of an Imperial officer.  They’d be more protected, safer, and most importantly— _together_.  If Idan’s abilities ever did come to light, it was possible that Echren could be convinced not to send him to the Academy.  He might just listen to her if she were to bring up Suvia again.

     Or, she frowned, he’d go on to treat her like an accessory.  A wife in name only.  It wouldn’t be out of character for him to act like he was owed something for freeing and marrying her.

     She shook her head, exhaustion overtaking her once again.  There weren’t going to be any decisions made tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Ysia chapter, the next one is the beginning of Part 2, which is told in exclusively Idan's POV. tbh I'm a little sad about it, but it's time for Idan to start telling his story.


	8. Part Two - Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idan falls into the river, and has to deal with the consequences that follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The switch to first-person Idan POV! Jump back 3 weeks from where Chapter 7 left off; before Echren found Idan on the riverbank.

     The second I found out that the river turtles were laying their eggs again this year, I knew I had to find a way to get down there without my mother.  For the past few years, she’d bring me by for a few minutes, too worried about getting home to join me in the thrill of watching soft-shelled turtles lay eggs in muddy banks.  I was always forced to stand too far away, I could never see anything other than a turtle poking its head out of the mud now and then.

     No, If I was going to see what I wanted, close enough to witness any kind of egg-laying, I had to be alone.  And there was no way my mother was going to let me do that.  I’d already asked last year; I begged her for an age in which she’d trust me to go alone.  A number, just so I knew how many more years I had to wait.

     Fifteen had not been the answer I wanted to hear, and I let her know it.  I must have cried for two hours, wailing about how fifteen was a lifetime away.  I had only been alive for seven years, and she wanted me to wait another eight?  I would practically be dying of old age by then, surely no longer interested in looking at turtles.  I corrected myself silently; I would _always_ be interested in looking at turtles.  But I didn’t tell my mother that.

     Just like I didn’t tell her how instead of going to play with Deek, Rintam, and Dal’jri at the patch, to which I hadn’t even been invited, I would be down by the river. 

     She told me to come home if the patch wasn’t our only destination.  I think she was probably too excited about the idea of me playing with others to even consider it being a lie.  Something I knew and used to my advantage.  It was my first big lie, I was nervous.  I felt like I was floating as words I’d planned left my lips, hopping from one foot to the other as I tried to stay grounded.

     I told her I would.  I even kissed her before leaving.  In her mind, she probably thought I was thanking her; I was apologizing.  I did take off on the direction of the patch, in case anyone saw me, but changed my course once I got into the bit of jungle that laid within the fence of the camp.  Finding my way there was easy, I just had to follow the sound of water.

     The weather was pleasant, dreary and overcast but no rain.  I’d seen the sun before, it had days where it would creep through the thick storm clouds that forever seemed to hang overhead.  I had no issue finding my way.

     The trick with soft-shelled mud turtles is that they blend in with the mud they’re burrowed in.  Get too close, and you could step on one you don’t see and kill it or collapse an already made burrow and destroy the hundred or so eggs within. 

     I came out of the jungle around the same area I’d found my crystal a few years prior; I looked to my left to see the tree it’d been hiding in the roots of.  With my hand in my pocket, I fumbled with the crystal.  Flat on one side, like it’s been broken off a longer piece.  A hairline crack had formed along the side of it.  Mom told me if I kept playing with it, it’d only grow bigger.  I wasn’t playing with it.  I’d done my best to explain to her that when I touched it, held it in my fingers when I felt the unforgiving hardness of the purple rock under my thumb, everything on the outside seemed less of an obstacle.  It was technically supposed to be in my box of trinkets at home, but I needed it.  I’d just told the biggest lie of my life, one I’d come to regret more than any lie I ever told. 

     There were several turtles, all of them burrowed in a cluster on the bank.  I could see a few burrows, most of them unreachable for someone without seven needle-like claws on each foot.  If I wanted to get any closer, I would have to climb down a bit.  The mud was slippery, and I slid down about halfway to where the bank leveled out again, about four feet.  My heart had risen high into my throat as I slid, knowing one wrong step would be the end of me.

     I gripped onto a rock, my hand slimy with mud.  I pushed my knees into the ground, sinking them deep into the mud as a way to lock myself into place as I wiped my hand off on my pants.  The decision to wear the only long-sleeved pullover I owned when I planned to be crawling around in stinky river mud with a bunch of turtles hadn’t been my best, but it was too late to do anything about it.  I slowly pushed myself down the next foot of the bank, now halfway between the top and the river.

     “Hello,” I whispered as I steadied myself on the incline.

     The turtle I parked myself in front of looked up at me slowly, blinking away the dirt in its eye.  She emerged from her burrow, her long neck extended as she pointed her long spoon-like nose at me.  Beady but expressive eyes blinked again as she scraped the ground with a clawed foot.

     “You’re very pretty,” I assured her, “You’ll have very pretty babies.”

     The other expectant mothers had noticed my presence, I suddenly had four sets of tiny eyes watching me.  It was, at that point, one of the most exciting moments of my life.  I had spent so much time begging my mother to let me get a closer look, promising to be careful.  The disappointment I felt when she refused grew each passing year.  All of it went forgotten when the turtle closest to me squeaked.  I hadn’t been aware they even made sounds.

     “You’re welcome,” I said, warmth filling my chest as I took a deep breath.

     There had an ebbing sense of danger around me, from the moment I stepped out of the house.  Earlier, I had assumed it was because of the danger I was putting myself in; the possibility of falling into the river and also what would happen if my mother ever found out.  It’d come around again, but I ignored the shiver that traveled up my spine as the turtle continued to gaze up at me, not at all threatened by my presence.

     Then suddenly my knees were no longer planted in the mud, there wasn’t a single part of me that was touching the ground.  An invisible hand had plucked me from the mud and flicked me into the river like I was a bug crawling on someone’s arm.      

     Never would I have expected the roaring white water to be so cold, a shock to my body as I was submerged beneath it.  My teeth cracked down on each other as my forehead slammed against something hard.  I’d heard the phrase ‘seeing stars’, but the light I saw spark throughout my vision resembled suns more than they ever did stars, even after I shut my eyes I could see the lights.  Water was in my mouth as I gasped at the pain that came with it all.

     As I quickly realized I couldn’t breathe, everything seemed to pause. The water around me still pushed past my limbs with violent speed, but I wasn’t moving.  And just as quickly as I’d frozen, I was pulled upward.  It wasn’t like before, where it seemed like some invisible thing had lifted me from the ground and flung me into the water.  This was different; I was lifting myself without using my arms or legs.  Whatever it was, was an extension of myself; it was similar to the feeling I had when I played with the crystal I kept in my pocket but heavier. 

     Hot, humid air hit my face as I reached the surface, coughing on the water left in my throat and mouth as I tried to inhale.  My hands dug into the mud as I felt the ground return under my fingertips.  I was halfway up the riverbank, clinging to the dirt and rocks with every bit of strength I had left.  The muscles in my arms and legs spasmed as my fingers dug deep into mud as I shakily climbed the last few feet of the bank onto flat, solid ground.  I stayed on my hands and knees, body rigid with shock.

     Blood was pouring out of my nose, I spat out what had begun to pool in my mouth.  Shaky elbows and knees finally gave out and I fell into the mud with a splat.   Someone shouted my name, a man, as three blurry figures, all in Imperial gray, emerged from the brush ahead of me.  I didn’t have time to make out any faces before my eyes slowly fluttered shut.  The next time I opened them, I was in the Overseer’s arms and he was running.

     “You’re all right,” he assured me, out of breath.  I didn’t feel all right, but I passed out again before I could tell him.

     The next time I awoke, the Overseer was sitting me down in a bed in the medbay, with old and buggy Emmex attaching a monitor nod to my chest.  My shirt had been cut up the middle,   I’d also managed to lose a shoe.  My mother wasn’t going to like that.

     The Overseer and Emmex finished their discussion about what had happened to my head as the Overseer helped me change into dry clothes.  Thin, scratchy, paper medical garments; like sandpaper against my skin.  I didn’t fight him on it, I was too numb; even if I hadn’t been, I couldn’t get my arms or legs to listen to me properly.  I was too tired to try. 

     “What happened to you?” the Overseer asked as he lifted one arm over my head at a time to put them through sleeves.  When he let go, it fell like a ragdoll’s.

     I didn’t answer, though I had only half heard the question.  I was on auto-pilot, mindlessly numb to everything.  My thoughts were racing, but I couldn’t figure them out.

     “Idan, did you hear me?” he said, he reached out and held my chin gently in his hand, forehead wrinkling as browed knitted together, “Can you hear me?”

     I nodded, leaning against his hand until it cupped my cheek completely.  It wasn’t my mother’s hand; it was too large and the skin too soft, but it was comforting.

     “Does your throat hurt?”

     Surprisingly, it didn’t.  None of me hurt, not even the gash on my forehead, so I shook my head.

     “Do not move,” Emmex seemed to sigh, “I have to close the wound.”

     “Hold still,” the Overseer said, keeping his hand on my cheek, “Almost done.”

     Once Emmex had applied a fair amount of skin glue, kolto, and a bandage to my forehead, after fighting with my hair for a minute, the Overseer let go of me and offered a reassuring smile.

     “Good job, you’re being very brave,” he said. 

     He seemed so happy, and it only added to my confusion.  The room spun for a moment and my head lolled forward.  Neither of them seemed to notice as the Overseer’s attention returned to Emmex.

     “Why isn’t he talking?”

     “I don’t know, sir,” Emmex’s eyes flickered.

     “Father,” came a firm voice from out in the hall.  Though the owner of the voice lurked out of view, just beyond the door, I could recognize the presence vaguely.  Everything around me felt too fuzzy, I had a hard time concentrating.  As much as I begged my brain to work, to focus on the identity of the hallway lurker, it just couldn’t manage it.

     “Gala?” the Overseer stood, alarmed, “What are you doing here?”

     “I was in the area,” she said, still unseen, “I heard what happened at the river, did he survive?”

     “How do you—”

     “Word travels fast,” she cut him off.

     “Watch him, Emmex, I’ll return shortly,” the Overseer growled as he turned to leave.

     “Yes, sir.”

     He took one last look at me first and sighed with a slight shake of his head.  He joined the woman out in the hall, the gentleness he had exhibited earlier had disappeared entirely, now appearing as he usually did.  A cold frown, furrowed brow, and clenched jaw. 

     They left the building together, slowly.  I felt their presence slowly fade from my limited view.  The room spun again as I desperately tried to extend my reach of the force in hopes to follow them or find my mother.  I shut my eyes as tight as I could until it stopped.

     The Overseer had quietly stalked through my childhood, or at least as far as my childhood had progressed to that point.  Always on the outside looking in.  Mom didn’t trust him, she was nervous whenever he was nearby.  I hadn’t yet made a concrete opinion; he’d often give me the chocolate in his pocket when he said hello to us during his walks through the monument site, but other than that he said very little.  He was tall, with an intimidating way of holding himself.  Shoulders pulled straight, and neck held rigid as his eyes would follow you.  If it wasn’t for the way his face softened when he looked at me, I might have been afraid of him.

     “You need to answer the Overseer’s questions when he returns,” Emmex said, turning back to the monitor, “There doesn’t need to be trouble.

     Was I in trouble?  I looked back to the door, now dreading the Overseer’s promised return.  Suddenly, I was overtly aware of my heartbeat.  It wasn’t my intention to go quiet, to suddenly stop speaking; I could think of the words I wanted to say--form sentences in my head--but when it came time to speak, my vocal cords seemed to forget their purpose and my thoughts refused to translate.

     At the very edge of my vision, I could see the bandage that Emmex had shakily applied to my forehead.  With an open palm, I tried to press it flat as gently as I could.  Droplets of kolto leaked out and fell onto my nose.  I wiped it away quickly with the bedsheet resting on my lap.  It continued to sting for the next several minutes.

     Everything in my body ached, both from the bruises I’d received from the river and the anxiety of possibly being caught in a lie.  A lie that could have gotten me killed.  On top of that, I’d broken a long-standing promise; never use the force.  Not even to float little rocks.

     And then my mother came running in, her soggy canvas shoes slapping the ground as she came to a quick stop right at the foot of my bed.  She was almost as wet as I felt; bushy brown hair dripping wet from the rain I could hear battering the roof.  Her skin was flushed; worried eyes held either tears or excess rain that’d fallen from her brow.  She didn’t speak a word as she rushed to me, climbing onto the bed beside me and wrapping me in her arms before I could completely register her presence.

     Her words sounded muffled as I was overcome with relief I hadn’t been expecting.  I hadn’t even realized how upset I was until I saw her.  Fear quickly replaced any comfort I had.  If anyone found out how had happened…  Her possible disappointment in me was almost as scary as the thought of being sent away.  Yes, I had gotten myself out of a river most didn’t survive, but the only explanation I had on how I got into the river—It also must have been my fault.  I was the one who could use the force, and no one had been there but me.  I hadn’t meant to throw myself into the river, and I had no explanation of how it happened.  Without one, I knew my mother wouldn’t believe me.

     I fell asleep briefly in her arms, using what little energy I had left to wail at the top of my lungs.  I woke as the Overseer raised his voice as he argued with her.  He left shortly after, and my mother pulled away to look at me.  The circles under her eyes looked darker, or maybe it was that her light brown skin had gone pale in her rush over, the flush having long left her cheeks.

     “It’s alright, he’s gone, you can talk now,” she said, so sure in her reasoning that the Overseer was the reason I’d gone quiet.

     But I couldn’t, and I knew it.  Something inside of me was just telling me ‘ _no_ ’, and I listened.  There wasn’t any reason to try, so I resorted to shaking my head.

     “No?” she sounded heartbroken.

     I shook my head again.

     “Okay,” she hugged me back against her and whispered ‘okay’ into my hair a few more times.  We began to rock, back and forth, as if I was a baby again.  It was the safest I’d felt all-day

 

 

     By the third week of my silence, I could tell my mother was growing desperate.  She had flat out told me that she missed the sound of my voice.  If only I could tell her I agreed, I also missed the sound of my voice.  The feel of it in my throat as the words came out with little to no effort on my part.  She must have thought I was in control, I didn’t know how to tell her I wasn’t.  Writing it all down frustrated me, my written Basic was terrible.  That paired with my mother’s lack of fluency in reading Basic, and my lack of knowledge in Huttese in general, only made things worse.   The only two words I knew how to spell with confidence was my name and her nickname.  I could say Aramysia, but had anyone asked me to spell it and they’d get nothing but a blank stare.

     I’d tried practicing words in the mirror after locking myself in the refresher one afternoon, but all that came out where raspy little grunts and whines.  All I wanted to do was make her happy, ease her worrying.  Why couldn’t I speak for her?  How did it suddenly get so difficult? 

     “You snuggled enough, or do you need more snuggling?” she asked, having tucked the ends of the blanket under my feet. 

     I lifted the top of the blanket over my head, turning my back to her as I buried my head in my pillow.  Since the river, bedtime had become my favorite time of the day.  I wasn’t expected to speak or communicate; bedtime was about being quiet.  The only thing I seemed to be good at, at that moment.

     “Alright then,” she said sadly, “I have to finish cleaning up from dinner.  Goodnight.”

     The _I love you_ that usually followed didn’t come, surprising me _._   As listened to her fill the kitchen sink with water, I worried I’d made her angry.  I was hurting her with my quiet, I could feel it.  Her shoulders sank every time to spoke to me and went unanswered.   With a grumble of something in Huttese, she abandoned the sink and locked the refresher door behind her.  She often talked to herself when she thought I wasn’t listening.  I flopped onto my back as I heard her mumbling to herself, pulled the blankets off my head and stared up at the bunk above me.  Looba, the doll Aunt Ta had made for me as a baby, sat at the corner between my mattress and the wall; in desperate need of comforting. I grabbed her and squeezed her against my chest, pushing my nose deep into her pink yarn hair. Mom always said she loved me before bed.  Why didn’t she this time?

     The lamp over my head came on as I hit the wall switch, squinting up into the light, I listened for the sound of the refresher door unlocking.  It was my hope a moth or bug would appear before she was done.  But instead, I saw the towering form of Overseer Tiern walk into the middle of the house.

     I shut my eyes, dreading being found awake.  There was a light tap at the refresher door, followed quickly by my mother whispering in agitation and slamming the door shut.  When I opened my eyes, I was alone again.  I could hear them talking, but their words were too muffled to comprehend.  With Looba dragging behind me, I left the safety of bed and padded to the door.  The mystery of why my mother and the Overseer had locked themselves in the toilet was too much to let the fear of being caught stop me.  I pressed my ear to the door carefully.

     “I’ll have won,” the Overseer said, sounding elated, “ _We’ll_ have won!”

     _Won what?_ I wondered, dropping Looba at my feet as my grip on her arm loosened.  I looked down, my ear leaving the door.  I’d get her in a minute, I decided.

     “Start over… as a family,” the Overseer finished.

     “I’m Idan’s family.  Ta is Idan’s family.”

     They were talking about me?

     “I could be his father, every boy needs a father—”

     “Suvia died with you as her father,” my mother cut him off.

     I pulled back from the door again, my brows furrowed and my upper lip curled.  The Overseer wanted to be _my_ father?  Or someone else’?

     As a breeze blew in from the doorway, picking up the edges of the yellow curtain, there was a tickle in my nose.  Before I could even cover my mouth, I sneezed and stumbled back a step.

     “ _Idan?_ ” I heard the Overseer call out, and I scrambled back to bed, feet pounding loudly against the hollow metal floor.  In a rush, I tried to cover my feet in the way my mother had and threw the covers once again over my head, realizing too late that I’d left Looba on the ground by the door.  Try as I might, I couldn’t quell my pounding heart fast enough to hear them as they exited the refresher together. 

     “My offer will remain on the table,” the Overseer said, “Regardless.”

     A good amount of time passed before my mother sat at the edge of my bed.  The lamp clicked as she turned it off with a sigh.  She began to stroke my hair, slowly curling strands around the ends of her fingers.  As nervous as I was, I could still feel my heart thumping in my throat, the soothing repetitive motion managed to lull me to sleep.


End file.
